A Story Never Told
by Purple Eyed Cat
Summary: The daughter of Jack and Jill (yes, that Jack and Jill), Winifred Nimble has a quiet life in the kingdom of Loken. When her best friend becomes engaged to the crown prince, Winnie ends up joining her friend on the journey to the capital, accompanied by Wolf, a boy she once knew who is now all grown up. Will any of them find the happy endings they were looking for?
1. To Fetch a Pail of Water

**A/N: Welcome to _A Story Never Told!_ This story was originally written six years ago with the intention of hopefully turning it into a published novel. As that never happened, I thought the next best thing would be putting it on here for you all to enjoy. **

**Summary: The daughter of Jack and Jill (yes, that Jack and Jill), Winifred Nimble is a normal seventeen year old living with her parents in the kingdom of Loken. When her best friend goes to a ball and becomes engaged to the crown prince, Winnie ends up joining her friend on the journey to the capital, accompanied by a boy from her past who has grown up to be an irritatingly handsome man. But when all is said and done, will any of them find the happy endings they were looking for?**

* * *

Chapter 1: To Fetch a Pail of Water

Winifred Nimble clattered down the stairs, fully dressed, her stomach rumbling. The smells that had drifted up to her loft bed had called her down the stairs before her mother could say anything, and Winnie could recognize the smell of The Black Sheep's strawberry pastries anywhere. Ever since she could remember, her mother would get up early and walk down to The Black Sheep bakery and buy their breakfast. While it may seem costly, it was worth the expense—Jill Nimble was renowned for her inability to bake, and her husband was not about to let her burn down their only home—a cabin in the middle of Parisa Forest.

Jill Nimble smiled at her seventeen year old daughter's quick descent, her smile slipping off her face as Winnie quickly snagged a pastry off the colorful tray and moved towards the door, her orange tiger cat Cate hanging over her arm, green eyes closed in contentment as she purred. The purring abruptly stopped as Winnie set Cate down at the door, giving her a slight pat and nudging her out the door with her foot. Looking highly affronted, Cate sauntered out into the forest, her ears pricking at the sounds of early-morning birdcall.

"Winnie," Jill called after her daughter just as she stepped over the threshold, "where are you going?"

In response, the red-headed girl stopped, whirling to fix her mother with a pleading pout.

"Please, Mama," she implored her mother, "I promised Roselyn I would meet her at Elsa's Jewels. She was invited to a ball in Ibbot, and I promised I would help her find the perfect set of jewels."

"She was invited to a ball in Ibbot?" Jill repeated, distracted by this news. Ibbot was the capital of their kingdom, and it was strange that a common girl like Roselyn Lanton would be invited from a small town like Satuton, no matter how beautiful she may be. Jill rubbed her fingers against her cheek, belatedly remembering that she had just been handling sticky pastries. From Winnie's smile, Jill knew she had succeeded in smearing jam across her face again.

She was searching for a towel when she heard the back door slam. "Stay where you are," she warned her daughter, who looked as if she was about to flee again. Winnie sighed and moved back into the room, knowing she had lost. "I understand that the ball in Ibbot is an exciting thing," Jill explained to her daughter, turning towards the back of the house, "but let's see what your father has to say."

Winnie sighed again but obeyed, shifting impatiently from one foot to the other. A moment later, Jack Nimble strode into the room, carrying an empty tin pail and frowning. "The pump is broken again," he informed his wife, setting down the pail down with a _thump_ and smiling at the sight of the pastries.

Jill frowned, moving forward to brush her husband's cheek with her sugar-and-paint stained fingers. Jack smiled down at her and wrapped an arm around her waist, his green eyes bright in his tanned face. His wood-roughened hands were gentle as he tipped her chin up and gently kissed her. A cleared throat from their daughter brought them back to the present, and the two owners of Nimble Candlesticks found themselves staring into the disapproving brown eyes of their impatient teenager.

"Don't worry," Jack assured Jill in response to her worried glance at the empty pail, "we'll just have to go to the well in town and live with that water for awhile until I can let Rudy know the pump is broken. It won't be as good as our spring water, but we can make do."

"I'll go with you," Jill told him, moving to the closet and pulling out three more tin pails. Winnie groaned, and Jill frowned at her daughter she moved back to her husband's side.

"Can it wait?" Winifred wanted to know.

"Winnie," Jill scolded, "you know that unless we have water, an entire day goes to waste."

Although Winnie wanted to argue, wanted to point out that she was wasting time while Roselyn waited for her, she knew her parents had a valid argument. They were owners of Nimble Candlesticks, a branch of Jack's family business, and, as the name suggested, they made intricate painted candlesticks. Jack might not need water for his wood carvings, but once he finished carving, it was his wife who painted them, using eggshells and water to dilute and change her colored paints.

Seeing that she had no more arguments, her parents gathered their pails and moved past her towards the door. Winnie watched them go, wondering how she could get word to Roselyn that she would be late.

"If we see Roseyln, we'll tell her that we asked you to stay home," Jill assured her daughter, and Winnie nodded sullenly.

"Are you going to be all right here alone?" Jill asked her daughter in concern, her blue eyes shadowed. At the worry in her absent-minded mother's voice, Winnie put aside her anger for a moment and stepped into her mother's arms, reaching around to pull two small paintbrushes out of her mother's red-gold bun, where Jill had undoubtedly absently placed them while she did some pre-dawn painting before breakfast.

"I'll be fine," Winnie assured her mother, leaning against the doorframe. "You've left me alone before, for less important things than a few pails of water."

Jill nodded, but Winnie could tell that she still felt uneasy. Jack, however, had full confidence in his daughter, and was already halfway down the path.

He waited for Jill to catch up, and just as she did, he remembered what he wanted from his daughter. "Winnie," he called back, "will you go visit your grandmother and ask Rudy for more wood? I'm getting low on supplies!" When his daughter nodded, her wavy red hair bouncing around her face, he added, "Tell him that he needs to fix the pump while he's here! Make sure he doesn't forget!"

Winnie's laugh and wave was all he received, but Jack knew that she would do as he asked. Although she could twist both him and his wife around her little finger, Winnie still did as she was told. Taking Jill's hand, Jack smiled at his wife. "Everything will be fine," he murmured to her, squeezing her hand when he noticed the uneasy look had not passed from her face.

Winnie watched her parents walk down the path, two pails each and hand in hand. Once they had disappeared, she groaned and leaned back against the doorframe.

"I can't leave the forest and go to town, but I can go to Grandma's?" She asked Cate, who lay in the doorway, curled up in a patch of dawning sunlight. Noticing the chill that the sun had not managed to chase away yet, Winnie returned to the kitchen, finally lifting her pastry to her lips. Finishing it in five easy bites, she brushed the crumbs and sugar off her favorite pair of black pants and green shirt. Smoothing down the embroidery at the hem and the cuffs, Winnie climbed the stairs, shivering at the cool breeze that floated through the house—she had left the door open. The girl picked up the empty leather satchel she always carried with her when she went to her grandmother's house, along with her belt. Unsheathing the knife that rested on the belt, Winnie inspected it, making sure it did not need to be sharpened.

Satisfied, she finished preparing for her short trip by donning her cloak. Made of the softest black velvet, her mother had made the cloak for Winnie on her fifteenth birthday, two years ago. The underside of the cloak was made of a dark scarlet velvet, and while Winnie feared that the color would clash against her hair, Jill had assured her many times that the color was flattering.

Relocating Cate from the doorway to the path earned her a scratch for her pains, but Winnie ignored the stinging of the cut and her hissing cat, locking the door behind her and slipping the iron key on its chain around her neck. Cate stalked off, annoyed, but Winnie did not worry about her pet—she had left the small window in the roof open, affording her cat an entrance to the house.

The forest was quiet as Winnie made her way towards her grandmother's house. Although her grandmother used to live in Satuton, she had relocated to Parisa Forest in order to be closer to her daughter and her daughter's family. There was nothing to fear from this forest.

The small cabin was quiet when Winnie approached it, which struck her as strange—at the very least, the sound of an ax splitting wood would have been heard, for Rudy was not known for sleeping late.

Pushing on the door, Winnie was relieved to find it unlocked—if it had been otherwise, she would have worried. Entering the cabin, which opened immediately into a sitting room and a kitchen beyond, Winnie was surprised to find her grandmother sitting in the early-morning half-light. Dropping her cloak, satchel and belt in a basket next to the door—her grandmother forbid weapons beyond the door, saying that weapons were for the dangers of the outside world, not the world of warm family comforts—and stepped into the darkened room, leaving the door open in her surprise.

"Grandma?" Winnie called, stepping closer and noticing that her grandmother's eyes widened at the sight of her. "What are you doing?"

"I was watching the sunrise, Winifred." The response was so unlike her active, bright grandmother that Winnie stopped in her tracks, a shiver racing down her spine. It was her grandmother's voice, and her grandmother's willowy form in the chair, but her grandmother was never one to sit idle. More importantly, Winnie knew, her grandmother never called her by her full name.

Resisting the urge to turn away as she noticed her grandmother scrutinizing her, Winnie forced herself a few steps closer. "What is it, grandma?"

"Nothing, dear." Her grandmother's voice was closer to its normal tones, and Winnie relaxed, wondering if her grandmother was coming down with a cold, that an illness was prompting this strange behavior. "I had forgotten how beautiful you've become."

Suddenly, Winnie's grandmother stood, extending her arms towards her granddaughter. "Now, are you going to properly greet your grandmother?" She asked, and Winnie moved closer, the words familiar but something else feeling out of place. As she stepped into her grandmother's arms, Winnie stiffened, realizing that her grandmother's normal scent was missing. Her grandmother always smelled of lilac perfume, the same scent she used when she was a young actress, the beloved star of every stage in the kingdom. While her grandmother smelled faintly of lilacs now, there was a darker, earthy musk that lingered underneath, making Winnie edgy, not understanding why things were so strange.

Stretching up, Winnie obediently moved to kiss her grandmother's cheek, but stopped midway, realizing that her grandmother had never seemed so tall before. She glanced at the older woman, puzzled.

"Something wrong, dear?" Her grandmother's voice was soft, coaxing, and Winnie shook her head, pushing the strange thought out of her head and attempting to complete her original task.

She might have succeeded, if a pair of lips had not come to rest of hers just as she moved to press a light kiss to her "grandmother's" cheek.

A stranger held her, Winnie was sure of this now, and she struggled, ignoring the warm feel of lips against her mouth, panic flaring. Her grandmother was not here, and this stranger had waited for her! Wishing desperately for her knife, which she had left at the door, Winnie struggled, shoving against her captor and attempting to twist away from him.

Suddenly, blinding sunlight poured over the two, and a familiar voice called out: "That is _not_ how we greet family in this house!"

To Winnie's relief, the man released her immediately, and she stumbled backwards, glaring and wiping her mouth. The man's amber eyes glowed in the sunlight, and he chuckled at her actions, stepping forward to finger a lock of her loose red hair.

"Fooled you, did I, Red?"

Only one person called her that. "Wolf," Winnie snarled, low and furious, backing farther away, intent on reaching her knife and teaching him a lesson. "I don't know what game you decided to play, but when my grandmother returns-"

"I'm here!" Winnie's grandmother announced, sailing forward from her place next to the large window, where she had pulled the curtains away to allow the sunlight to stream onto the wooden floor.

Wrapping an arm around her shaking granddaughter, Abigail Allen chastised the smirking young man across from her, who was currently slipping off his wig and wiping his face to rid himself of the makeup he clearly wore.

"Wolfgang," Abigail told him, sounding as if she were scolding a child, "I told you that we would consider your training finished if you could fool my granddaughter. After that _display_ , you have shown that you cannot keep yourself in the mind of your character."

Wolfgang tried to look contrite and failed. "I'm sorry, Abigail," he told the imposing woman, shaking his long black hair out of his face, "but I couldn't help myself." He smirked at Winnie, winking, while all Winnie could do was glare, still not understanding why her grandmother allowed this man in her house. "She's was cute when we were little, and you told me she was beautiful now, but I wasn't expecting…" He trailed off and eyed Winnie appreciatively, causing the young woman to cross her arms over her chest and wish she had a blanket to drape over herself.

"I warned you," Abigail chuckled proudly, squeezing Winnie's shoulder while her granddaughter gaped, flabbergasted.

"Grandma!" She protested, glaring at Wolfgang.

"Don't be embarrassed, dear," her grandmother reassured her, smiling, her green eyes sparkling with laughter. "It's true."

" _Grandma!_ " Winnie wailed, mortified, feeling a blush creep up her neck to envelope her face.

Wolfgang's gaze followed the path of her blush, and before she could stop him, he had sauntered forward to brush his fingers against her cheek, smirking down at her. Winnie leaned away from his touch, staring at him. At this close proximity, she could not deny that he had grown a handsome man, if not a detestable one: Wide cheekbones gave way to a narrow chin and strong mouth, and his amber eyes glowed in the sunlight. His shaggy black hair hung around his shoulders, and his deceptively tall and lean body did nothing to hide the strength he obviously carried in his muscular form.

He had been a gawky boy, Winnie remembered, with dark hair that would never stay combed, and he had a way of teasing her that always made her blush and snap, embarrassed by his attention in a way she couldn't explain. He had been gone from town for the last several summers, helping his father with the family's smithing business, and Winnie hadn't really seen much of him or missed him. He had been a nuisance in her childhood, and she hadn't even realized he was back in town.

"Your blush matches your hair perfectly," he leered at her, chuckling as she glared. He was unprepared for her slap, the sound of it echoing into silence as he stumbled backwards, watching her with shocked surprise and finding her wearing a matching expression.

" _Winifred!"_ Before Winnie could do anything, or process anything other than the fact that she had slapped Wolf, her grandmother had grabbed her hand, squeezing it until she could feel the bones grinding against each other. Grimacing, Winnie turned to find her grandmother glaring at her, her green eyes flashing with disappointment and anger.

"What have I told you about slapping guests in my home?" Abigail drew herself up, using her best "imperious actress" tones, watching as her granddaughter turned shocked brown eyes to her, her mouth dropping open into a surprised _O_.

"Your _guest_?" She whispered, looking contrite for a moment before remembering whom her grandmother was referring to and shooting a glare at Wolfgang. "Grandma, it's _Wolf!_ He's not a guest! You've known him since we were four! Did you see what he did?"

"I did," Abigail confirmed, "He was not supposed to kiss you, he was supposed to fool you into thinking that he was me." She pursed her lips and frowned again at Wolfgang. "He did not do well."

Winnie stared at her grandmother, feeling her shame and embarrassment turn to anger. "You don't find it wrong that he kissed me?"

"Yes, that was wrong." Her grandmother returned patiently, abandoning her hold on Winnie to gather up Wolfgang's makeup and costume. "He should know better." She frowned at her newest student.

Wolfgang grinned at both of them, unrepentant. "I couldn't help myself," he added, wrapping an arm around Winnie's waist.

Winnie couldn't get away from him fast enough. Wriggling away and moving to her grandmother's side, the girl stared at the strange man whom Abigail seemed to tolerate, and even like, a man who had replaced the annoying boy she had known.

"Stop teasing the girl," Abigail scolding, wrapping an arm around Winnie's shoulders and leading her forward. "Winnie, I would like you to meet my newest acting student, Wolfgang Lothar. Wolfgang, I believe you have already met my granddaughter, Winifred Nimble."

"Why are you introducing us? I know him."

Abigail gave her a stern look. "We're turning over a new leaf. All of us." She frowned as Winnie rolled her eyes, unimpressed. At her grandmother's nudge, Winnie put her hand out slowly. With a smirk, Wolfgang brought it to his lips, brushing the briefest of kisses against the back of her hand.

"Call me Wolf, Red, all my friends do."

"I am not your friend," Winnie snapped back, snatching her hand away. The warning squeeze of Abigail's hand told her to behave, and she gave him a strained smile, turning away as soon as her grandmother released her.

"Where's Rudy?" She asked her grandmother, remembering why she had come in the first place and using any excuse to ignore Wolfgang—Wolf?

As if her words had summoned him, Rudolph Selwyn appeared in the doorway, his large frame completely filling it. For such a large man, he moved lightly over to Abigail's side, kissing her cheek and smoothing a loose white curl from her forehead before turning to his lover's granddaughter.

"How are you, Winnie?" He boomed, scooping her up in a hug that always seemed to crush the air from her lungs instantly.

"I've been better," Winnie growled when she could breathe again, once again glaring at Wolf. To her annoyance, the lean man merely smirked at her, clearly unapologetic for what he had done.

Rudy laughed at the exchange of glances, his gray hair threatening to escape its horsetail as he did so. "I see you've met Abbi's new student," he said, still chuckling.

Annoyed, Winnie changed the subject, eager to get away from Wolf. "Papa said the pump was broken this morning," she told the large man, "and he asked me to come and ask you to fix it."

"Yes, he mentioned that when we saw him in town," Abigail jumped in, folding up Wolf's costume. "We saw Jack and Jill at the well. They were getting water, and they told us that the pump was broken, and that Jack needed wood. When we finished at Nimble Candles, he was talking to some rough-looking men." Abigail shook her head in affectionate exasperation, thinking of her son-in-law. "He could make friends with anyone."

"What were you doing in Nimble Candles?"

"We were looking at your mother's latest pieces," Abigail told her granddaughter with a proud smile.

"Jack told you he needed more wood?" Rudy phrased it as a question, and Winnie nodded, moving to the door to replace her belt at her waist—shooting a quick glance at Wolf as she did so—before shouldering the satchel and draping her cloak over her arm.

"It was good to see you, Grandma," Winnie told the older woman sincerely, wrapping her arms around her grandmother's waist and inhaling the woman's true scent of lilacs. Abigail returned the embrace.

"It was nice of you to stop by, dear," she told the girl. Satisfied, Winnie broke the embrace and turned around, only to be met by Wolf on her way towards the door, his arms outstretched and a smile on his face.

"Wolfgang." Winnie gave him a curt nod and slid around him, her hand on her belt knife.

"No hug for me?" He called after her as she left the house. When he received no response, he tried again. "If you won't hug me, how about a kiss?" Silence answered him, and he laughed, his amber eyes sharp with interest as he watched her disappear from view.

Winnie had heard his final statement, but she would not dignify it with an answer as she escaped the temporary madhouse her grandmother's house had turned into for the relative safety of Rudy's wood yard.

 _Each student is worst than the last_ , Winnie found herself musing, remembering with a flush of anger the way Wolf had dared to look at her. Although she had had to tolerate some strange things in her grandmother's house, she wondered Abigail had finally lost what little sense she normally had. None of the other students Winnie had come in contact had ever been allowed by Abigail to try and impersonate her in order to fool Winnie. Abigail had always made it clear that Winnie should be involved as little as possible. Although she was the granddaughter of a famous actress, Winnie had no interest in the theater.

Abigail Allen had once been the most sought-after actress in all of Loken. With her blonde hair, stunning green eyes, tall, curving figure and talent for performing, she had even been offered a place in the Royal Performing Troupe by the king himself, who had been smitten with her. Abigail had turned him down, returning to the small town of Satuton where she had grown up. Finding that her daughter Jill had married a candlestick-maker in her absence, she moved into the Parisa Forest to be closer to her remaining kin. Soon after, she had met Rudy and moved in with him, convincing him to expand their home so she could board the many students that came to find her in her small home, begging her to teach them. After many pleading letters from the officials of the town, she agreed to open a small acting school in her house in the forest, boarding one or two aspiring actors at a time, spending her remaining time as a playwright for the local performing troupe.

The low, rhythmic _thump_ of an ax splitting wood dragged Winnie back to the present, and she rounded the corner of the house, leaning against wood that was stacked over her head. She knew better than to move closer; she had been lectured many times by Rudy for coming too close while the chips of wood were flying. There was a pause in the chopping, and Winnie approached, nodding her thanks when Rudy motioned to a small pile of wood, split into small rounded logs. Recognizing Rudy's need for silence while he worked, Winnie gathered up the wood, placing it carefully in her satchel before shouldering the familiar weight.

Her own home looked inviting as Winnie trudged up the path, but something struck her as odd. It was too quiet. Her parents should have been back long before now—it was not a long walk to town, and it didn't take an hour to fetch water, did it?

Cate brushed against her mistress' ankles, purring as Winnie approached, but Winnie gently nudged her cat aside and unlocked the door, wondering why she did not hear the familiar sounds of her mother humming, or her father singing bits of folk songs as he worked. The clearing seemed sadly empty without them, and Winnie suppressed a shudder, the uneasy feeling that something was once again wrong. She had had enough things go wrong today, hadn't she?

Her mind full of what she would tell Roselyn when she finally saw her friend that afternoon, Winnie pushed open the door. Her mother's voice did not greet her, and Winnie stepped inside, puzzled. Dropping her things at the foot of the stairs in a jumbled heap, she looked around, closing the door absently behind her, nearly catching Cate's tail in the process. Cate hissed and shot across the room, but Winnie wasn't paying attention. The house was quiet, and she didn't like it.

"Mama?" She called, glancing around for any sign of either of her parents. Footsteps from her parent's bedroom had her turning towards the small hallway, and she breathed a sigh of relief as she noticed her father approaching her, his face in shadow. "Papa…"

"Winnie."

Winnie stopped short, recognizing the voice but not understanding. "Uncle George?"

George Nimble stepped into the room, his blue eyes red-rimmed, as if he had been crying. His dark hair was identical to Jack's, although he had a few more gray hairs.

"What are you doing here, Uncle George?" Winnie asked curiously, unsure why her day was so strange. All she had wanted to do was go shopping with her best friend, but it seemed that Fate had other plans for her.

In answer, her uncle opened his arms. Winnie went to him immediately, needing a hug and some reassurance after such a strange morning.

"Winnie," her uncle sighed, his voice rumbling in his chest under her ear.

"Where are my parents?" Winnie asked, suddenly not sure if she wanted an answer.

"Winnie..." her uncle's voice broke. "I'm here because of your parents."

"What's wrong?" Winnie demanded, her voice rising in agitation.

George brushed her red hair out of her face, tears welling in his eyes. "I have some bad news, Winnie."

"What _happened_?" Winnie cried, stiffening at the sight of her strong uncle with tears misting his gaze.

George pulled her closer, feeling her body stiffen with fear. His face crumpled with grief as he answered her honestly, his voice cracking as he delivered the news that would shatter her world.

"Winnie, your parents were killed."

* * *

 **A/N: Reviews are always appreciated!**


	2. Where to Go From Here

**A/N: Here's Chapter 2! Enjoy!**

* * *

Chapter 2: Where To Go From Here 

Winnie sat on the empty wooden floor of her mother's kitchen, her arms wrapped around herself. She desperately wished for tears, but since George had delivered the news and then left her in order to tell her grandmother, she had been dry-eyed.

Cate sat nearby, eyeing her mistress as if she knew something was wrong. Purring, she curled up in Winifred's lap, butting her head against Winnie's chin before settling down. Winnie stroked the cat absently, welcoming the contact and staring dazedly at the fireplace, covered in ash and coldly empty.

 _"Winnie, your parents were killed in town. They were found near the well."_

Her parents were dead because of a few pails of water? Winnie shook her head, waiting for the burning sensation at the corners of her eyes that heralded tears, but they would not come. It did not make sense that they would be killed over something as simple as water. There was no water shortage in Satuton, no drought. Why had they been killed?

 _"I don't know why they were killed, Winnie. There are no clues for the Lawmen to follow."_

No clues? The Lawmen weren't looking hard enough if they couldn't find any clues. There had to be a reason.

 _"Perhaps they wanted the money from the business."_

Her parents didn't have any enemies, Winnie could swear by it. Her parents were honest, a hard-working couple that had never wronged anyone. Winnie bit her lip, numb to world around her and wanting to feel pain, anything to ensure she was still alive. She felt empty, as empty as the house she sat in, bereft of the two people that had made it a home.

"Hello, Winnie."

Her father's voice sounded behind her, and Winnie shrieked with surprise, relief flooding her numb frame. She leaped to her feet, dumping a yowling Cate to the floor. "Papa!" She cried as she turned, "Uncle George was here, saying you had been…"

She trailed off at the sight of a smirking Wolf.

"Did I scare you, Red?"

Winnie froze, relief dying instantly. The pain rushed back in, and Winnie felt as if she was receiving the horrible news again. The pain quickly morphed into anger at the sight of Wolf, and Winnie embraced it, more willing to direct her anger at this available target than to dwell on news that she didn't want to truly comprehend.

"How _dare_ you!" She hissed, stalking towards him. "Do you find that _funny_?"

The lean man's smile slipped slightly as he answered her, caught off guard by her obvious rage. "Your reaction was amusing, beautiful."

 _He dares to make fun of me in my own home?!_

"What's wrong, Red?" At that moment, Wolf's teasing only made her blood boil, and she felt her face beginning to flush with anger. "Can't you take a joke?"

"Tell me," Winnie asked him in a low voice, "how imitating the voice of someone's dead father is _funny_!"

She had the satisfaction of seeing the blood drain from Wolf's face before she strode up to him and slapped him. He was clearly shocked at her news, because he made no move to stop her as she approached.

"Red…" Wolf looked down at the girl, and when her brown eyes met his, they were full of tears. He sounded genuinely apologetic as he whispered, "Red, I'm so sorry, I didn't know. Your grandmother sent me to get you. She didn't tell me why. I met your father last week. I just wondered what would happen if I used his voice."

The mimic was unprepared for sudden weight of a woman in his arms, burying her head in his shoulder and beginning to sob. Winnie, overcome with the grief that threatened to swallow her as soon as the anger had extinguished itself with Wolf's heartfelt apology, wanted only one thing: human contact.

Wolf made no mention of the tears that were seeping into his black shirt as he held Winnie gingerly, waiting for the moment that she would come to her senses and pull away. He braced himself for another slap, but Winnie did not seem ready to leave the circle of his arms at that moment. She sobbed incoherently into his shoulder, whatever words she might have said muffled in the fabric of his shirt, venting her grief.

Gently, hesitantly, Wolf ran his fingers through her loose red tresses, humming low in the back of his throat, trying to comfort her. Her unique and exquisite scent of wood, eggshells and wild roses reached his nose, and Wolf closed his eyes, storing the sensory memory away for future use. The young woman in his arms seemed to take comfort from his gentle ministrations, and Wolf felt her relax under his hands.

Winnie stiffened, the reality of where she was dawning on her. Since she had encountered him this morning, this man who was currently comforting her had done everything to annoy and exasperate her. But she told herself that she was overwhelmed with grief, and could not be held accountable for her actions. Her anger at Wolf had cooled, and she nearly pulled away when he began to run his fingers through her hair. She stopped trying to resist when the motion took her back to her childhood, when her mother would stroke her hair while soothing her to sleep.

 _Her parents…_ Winnie choked back a sob, wiped her eyes and backed away from Wolf. "Thank you," she found herself murmuring, ignoring Wolf's raised eyebrow of surprise.

"I'm sorry," the man surprised her by whispering. Straightening, Winnie turned away from him, unable to face his kindness, unsure of how to react to the gentle sympathy she saw in his gaze. His lechery she could handle with easy annoyance, but this gentle, comforting man she found before her, watching her with concerned amber eyes was not a man she was used to reacting to. His softened gaze reminded her of the boy she had known, and she wasn't sure how to adjust to the sudden change.

"Your grandmother sent me with a message for you to gather your things." Wolf broke into her thoughts with his quiet words, and Winnie nodded, scooping Cate up and climbing the stairs to her loft, ignoring the bundle of supplies she had brought from her grandmother's house—was it only hours ago? It seemed a lifetime ago, rather than just that morning.

There was not much for her to collect. Her bed was nothing more than a straw mattress with a few blankets. Taking the star quilt her mother had sewn for her as a child was essential, and after bundling it up, Winnie knelt down, reaching under her bed for her treasures. Groping in the dark space under the mattress, Winnie pulled a wooden box from the space, cradling the smooth wood in her hands. As wide as both her palms, it was carved with leaves and fruits. Between the leaves, small fairy faces peeked at her, and Winnie brushed her hand over their joyful and peaceful faces, remembering the day her father gave her the box.

It had been her fifth birthday, and Winnie had watched her father make it, gazing in fascination as the fairies began to peer at her out of the wood. Her father had whisked it away soon after making it, and Winnie had not seen it until after supper that night, when her father presented it to her with a fond smile.

" _For your treasures, Winnie_ ," she remembered him saying, placing it into her small hands. Lifting the lid now, Winnie gazed on the treasures she had collected. Bits of her mother's old jewelry lay there, along with a few wood chips with sanded, smooth edges that her mother had painted small faces on: a miniature puppet family to keep a young Winnie entertained when her parents worked. A few river stones rested on the blue velvet lining at the bottom of the box, and Winnie remembered pulling them from the nearby creek with Wolf, delighted to find such smooth and rounded stones with flat surfaces. She had stolen some of her mother's old paints, she remembered, to paint childish designs and shapes on them, clumsily trying to imitate her mother's talent. A few bird feathers rested among the other small trinkets-Wolf's childish tokens of affection she had never managed to throw away as she got older and he left town. Her gaze drifting from her childhood treasures, Winnie's breath caught as she traced shaking fingers over the inscription on the inside of the lid.

Smoothly carved by a master hand, it read:

 _To our daughter Winifred E. Nimble_ ,

 _This is your treasure chest, for all those things you hold dear. Remember that treasures are not always things that you can touch; sometimes treasures are the things you hope to hold onto as long as you can._

 _Our best wishes and all our love to you, our beautiful daughter, on this, your birthday. May everything you wish for come true._

 _Love, your parents,_

 _Jack B. Nimble_

 _Jill E. Nimble_

Closing the box with a _snap_ , Winnie pushed it on top of her star quilt and stood up, blinking back tears. She would give anything to have her parents back, and while she had not understood the strange words at the age of five, she understood now what her parents had been trying to tell her. Clenching her fists, feeling the bite of her nails into her palms and ignoring the sting of tears that clung to the corners of her eyes, Winnie turned to the last item she wanted to take with her.

The wooden candlestick her father had crafted for her on the night of her birth stood on the stool next to her bed, and Winnie picked it up. While her father's craftsmanship was incredible, it was her mother's paints that made the wood come alive.

A small row of red flowers ringed the bottom of the candlestick, a shade identical to Winnie's hair, and her mother had somehow created a dark blue paint, creating the perfect canvas for a star-strewn sky. The star-studded sky took up most of the body of the candlestick, but right in the middle, expertly carved to make him dimensional, was a howling wolf, his eyes closed, his silver fur reflecting the silver stars as he silently sang, his muzzle uplifted, his nose meeting the mouth of the candlestick.

Winnie gently stroked the wolf's nose, as she always did before sleeping, and then she carefully cradled it in her hands while she unfolded the quilt and bundled the candlestick next to the box. Satisfied that she had all she needed of sentimental objects, Winnie quickly packed her clothes and the little jewelry she owned.

"Red?" Wolf's voice floated up the stairs, and Winnie jumped, having forgotten that he was there. "Do you need help?"

"In a moment," Winnie called back, picking up the quilt and making sure both the box and her candlestick were packed carefully, swaddled in its many layers.

Setting them down gently on the table, she led Wolf upstairs. Stepping into the loft, the amber-eyed man looked around, taking in the small room quietly. Cate hissed at him as he approached the bed, but he shooed her off. The striped cat made her displeasure known by swiping at the man, her claws extended. When he did not flinch, she stalked off towards the stairs, offended. Wolf sat down on the bed, watching Winnie carefully.

"Is this everything?" He asked quietly, and Winnie jerked her head in a tight nod. Suddenly the space was too small, too confining, and she couldn't stand there another minute. Choking back a sob and feeling like she struggled to breathe, she turned and bolted back down the stairs. A moment later, she heard Wolf cross the floor and pick up the two remaining satchels.

His footsteps rang loud on the stairs as he followed her down, and he winced at the noise. He found Winnie standing in the center of the room, gazing at the silent house around her.

Winnie trembled with grief, and suddenly the enormity of the situation overwhelmed her. Why did this have to happen? A warm hand on her shoulder brought her away from the grief that was about to wash over her, and she looked up at Wolf.

"They would not like to see you unhappy," he told her quietly, brushing his fingers against her freckled cheek, wiping away the tears that had begun to fall and tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

Winnie pressed her lips together, trying not to cry again. She was sure she'd end up in his arms again. Every empty space reminded her of what she had lost, and she still could not fully comprehend it. Unable to stay any longer, she gathered the quilt up in her arms and ran from the house, more to escape the grief that loomed over her than to leave her family home.

Wolf picked up the satchels and followed her out, watching silently as she locked the door to the house, her slim form shaking with silent sobs as she did so. Pressing the key to her lips as she finished the task, she slipped the chain once again around her neck, gathering up her belongings and beginning to walk resolutely down the path, heading for her grandmother's. Every step clearly pained her, and Wolf shook his head, admiring her strength as he caught up with her.

* * *

Abigail was waiting for them at the door when they approached, and by her reddened eyes, Winnie could tell that she had been crying as well. The usually exuberant ex-actress allowed them inside, waiting until Winnie had dropped her things before sweeping her into a tight hug.

Winnie melted into her grandmother's warm embrace, a fresh wave of tears stinging her eyes. "My dear," Abigail's voice cracked, and she cradled her grown granddaughter close. "I'm so sorry."

Once again, Winnie found herself sobbing in her grandmother's arms, the reality of the situation finally taking a painful hold as she found herself in her grandmother's house. Her parents were gone, and she would never see them again. She would never again help her mother mix paints, and she would no longer assist her father as he wandered the woods, sketching new ideas for his candlesticks. She would no longer sleep in her room, and she would never again wake up to the smell of The Black Sheep Bakery's famous pastries warming the house.

"I know, my dear." Abigail soothed her daughter, handing her a handkerchief. "I know."

Winnie pulled away, feeling drained and exhausted. Looking up, she realized that Rudy and Wolf had both disappeared, and Abigail pulled her towards a room. "Come, Winnie," she told her granddaughter, wrapping an arm around her waist. "You must be tired after such a long day."

All Winnie could do was nod and yawn. She faintly heard her grandmother mention that the room would permanently hers, and that they would soon have Winnie moved in. All she could see was the bed that waited for her, and she collapsed into it gratefully. She felt her eyes closing, and as she drifted to sleep, she found herself hoping that the news she had received earlier was nothing more than a bad dream.

* * *

 **A/N: Reviews are always appreciated!**


	3. Sparkling Tears, Sparkling Jewels

**A/N: Please enjoy!**

* * *

Chapter 3: Sparkling Tears, Sparkling Jewels

Winnie awoke the next morning to the sensation of sharp needling points pressing into her collarbone. A low rumbling sound met her ears, and she slowly opened sleep-blurred eyes, coming face to face with an insistent Cate.

Noticing the warm sunlight that had come sneaking through a gap in the curtains, Winnie pushed the cat off her chest, stroking the feline's back as she did so. Cate bumped her head against the young woman's chin, but she moved off her mistress' chest and leaped off the bed, padding over to the closed door and meowing pitifully.

Swinging her legs out of bed, Winnie stood, yawning and wondering what she was doing in her grandmother's guest bedroom. Her parents should have come to find her—

 _Her parents._

The events of the horrible day before came rushing back, and Winnie resisted the strong urge to sink down on the rug and sob. Her parents had been killed, and she was living with her grandmother. Biting back tears, Winnie shook her head and squared her shoulders, reaching forward and twisting the knob, opening the door and slipping out into the hallway.

The scent of The Black Sheep's strawberry pastries reaching her was almost enough to send her fleeing back to the safety of her room, where she could allow the tears to escape in privacy. However, Winifred knew that if she did not move down the hallway and into the kitchen, she would never be able to leave her room again, too paralyzed by her grief and pain to go on living.

Head held high, Winnie marched into the kitchen as if nothing was wrong. To her surprise, the only one to witness her entrance was a sleepy-eyed Wolf, glancing up at her before turning his bleary gaze back to his bowl of oatmeal and fresh strawberries. The low _thump_ from outside informed Winnie as to the whereabouts of Rudy, but her grandmother was strangely absent.

"Where is my grandmother?" She asked as she slid into a seat across from Wolf, ignoring the warm platter of strawberry pastries.

Silence greeted her, and for a moment, Winnie thought perhaps the man had not heard her. Clearly, Wolf was not a morning person. Finally, the man raised his gaze to hers and nodded towards the door.

"She left a few minutes ago, for town. She had to speak to the officials about your parents…" Wolf trailed off, looking uncomfortable. "I'm sorry."

"Oh." Winnie digested this information and bit her lip again, sure that it would be bloody by the time the day was over in her attempts to keep from crying.

Wolf's amber eyes sharpened as he watched her, and before she could stop him, he reached across the table to brush the rough pad of his thumb against her lips as he smirked at her. "Don't do that, Red," he told her in a rough whisper that sounded reminiscent of a growl, "or you'll ruin those enticing lips of yours."

"Stop it." Winnie told him sharply, leaning away from his gentle touch.

Wolf's smile did nothing to decrease from his charming looks, and Winnie looked away, irritated. "I can't help myself around you, Red," he told her pleasantly, plucking a strawberry from the bowl in the middle of the table and offering it to her.

Taking it from him, Winnie gave him a curt nod and tried to disregard the way their fingers brushed together. Trying to ignore the way he watched her, Winnie quickly ate the fresh fruit, closing her eyes to relish the sweet taste. Looking up, she found Wolf watching her with an odd look on his face. Abandoning his now-cold oatmeal, the man leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms and fixing her with a disarming smile.

"What are your plans for the day, Red?" He asked pleasantly, and Winnie stared at him, bewildered. Why did he care what she did all day? He would be here with her grandmother working on his acting skills, wouldn't he?

"None of that is your business!" Winnie found herself snapping, shoving her chair back and stalking from the table, eager to get back to her room. A small tub of warm water she had not seen when she left the room waited for her, and she quickly undressed—after checking the door was locked—before sinking into the water with a sigh. Washing her hair and using soap made her feel cleaner and more alive than before, and when the water had finally grown cold, she rose reluctantly from the tub and wrapped a towel around herself.

When she was fully dressed in her black pants, boots, and a black shirt—after all, she was in mourning—she quickly tamed her wavy red hair back into a braid with the ease of years of practice. She was meeting Roselyn at Elsa's Jewels, and even if her friend had heard the news, Winnie knew that she couldn't keep the other young woman waiting.

A gust of wind from her newly opened window told her that it was colder outside than the day before, and she pulled her black cloak on after securing her belt. Taking a deep breath and wondering how she would tell Roselyn if her friend had not heard the news, Winnie stepped out into the hallway…

…and promptly ran into Wolf, who was on his way to his own room farther down the hall.

Winnie collided firmly with his chest, stumbling back a few steps. Before she could stumble farther and lose her balance, hands gently grasped her forearms and held her upright. Mortified, Winnie could feel the blush that was quickly heating her cheeks as she looked up into the mirth-filled eyes of the man she had bumped into.

"Miss me, Red?" He growled in a husky whisper that involuntarily made her shiver. Winnie attempted to pull away, annoyed by the close proximity and desperately trying to ignore the enticing, musky scent she could smell rolling off him, freshly washed and shaved. It was almost spicy, an earthy scent with something sharper mixed in, a scent that was comfortable and intriguing at the same time.

"I'm sorry." She found herself apologizing. "I wasn't watching where I was going." Although she was annoyed by his comment, she found that she could not move from her current position, no matter how much she wanted to.

Wolf's amber eyes seemed to glow in the dimly lit hallway, and the air seemed to warm around them, but whether it was from the warmth in his gaze or the fingers he skated across her cheek, his thumb stroking her jaw, Winnie couldn't tell. She found that her gaze was drawn inexplicably to his, and she also found she could not look away.

His hand was warm as he cupped her cheek, gently lifting her chin as his fingertips left small imprints of heat against her skin as he cradled her face in his hand. Winnie found herself trembling, but she could not understand why. She only knew she was trapped by his gaze, full of heat and something predatory that she thrilled at and inwardly shied from at the same time.

Winnie watched, mesmerized, as Wolf lowered his head fractionally. His eyes explored her face, seeming to memorize every feature, every shadow and freckle. In the back of her mind, Winnie acknowledged what he was about to do, but her consciousness seemed frozen, as if she was unable to feel or understand anything other than what was happening in that moment.

Winnie watched as he wet his lips, dropping his head even lower, so close that his breath was ghosting over her face, the faint scent of strawberries and cinnamon reaching her nose. His hand was still warm against her face, every in of her skin alive with fire as he touched her, but for the first time, Winnie realized that his other arm had come to wrap around her waist, his other hand against her hip, radiating heat against her back. They were pressed flush together, and for a moment, Winnie was light-headed, her senses full of Wolf, every inch of her body feeling as it were aflame.

"Red…" Wolf growled, and Winnie found herself pressing closer, instinctively responding to his possessive tone without realizing it. Her flattened palms found his racing heartbeat, and she could feel it pounding under her skin.

 _So close_ …Something within her whispered, and she obeyed the unconscious command to be closer, her arms wrapping around his neck, her hands playing with the ends of his black hair on their own accord.

 _Almost…_

The call of "Winnie!" followed by the slam of the front door was like a bucket of cold water over both, and Wolf recoiled before the young woman in his arms could react. Dropping his arms, he pulled away, forcing Winnie to lower her own. Her mind finally came back to her, and she found herself wondering what she had almost done.

"Winnie! Are you awake?" Her grandmother's calls could wake the dead—or at least the heaviest of sleepers—and Winnie shook her head, blushing and unable to look at Wolf. What had happened?

The gentle brush of a thumb against her lips made her glance up sharply to find Wolf smiling lazily at her. "Next time, Red," he whispered, low enough that only she could hear. Before Winnie could slap his hand away or react, he sauntered nonchalantly past her, down the hallway towards his room, as if nothing had happened.

Shaking her head, Winnie resisted the urge to watch him leave. Reminding herself of her original intent—what was it again? Her mind was strangely muddled—she quickly strode out of the dim hallway, startling her grandmother.

"There you are, dear!" Abigail's warm greeting was followed by an even warmer hug, and Winnie grateful accepted her grandmother's embrace, welcoming anything that would help her erase the memories of what had happened moments ago in the hallway.

Abigail pulled away first, smoothing away the stray red locks from her granddaughter's face and attempting to put on a smile. "I have news, dear."

"What?" Winnie wasn't sure she wanted to hear anything else about her parents—she missed them, and although the news had not truly sunk in entirely yet, there was a heavy ache in her chest that seemed permanent.

Abigail's green eyes were solemn. "I have been told by the officials that your parents were killed because thugs wanted their purses, not because of Nimble Candlesticks."

Winnie frowned, trying to remember if her parents had taken their belts and purses with them to town. "They didn't take purses."

Abigail nodded sadly, tears trailing down her cheeks unbidden. "That's why they were killed, dear. They didn't give the men what they wanted."

Winnie nodded, too numbed by this most recent news to do anything else. "I understand," she said in answer to her grandmother's concerned look.

"Do you want to stay here today and help me with my acting exercises for Wolf?" Abigail asked quietly, wondering how her granddaughter was going to cope with the news.

Suddenly, the last thing Winnie wanted to do was sit in her grandmother's house and mope, mourning her parents. The walls seemed to close around her, and Winnie shook her head. After what had just happened, the last thing she wanted to do was sit in this house and be near Wolf.

"I promised Roselyn I'd meet her in town," Winnie mumbled, slipping past her grandmother and nearly running to the door.

"All right, dear." Abigail answered, watching in concern as Winnie disappeared outside. "Be back by sunset!" She called, receiving a wave from Winnie in acknowledgement.

Turning away, Abigail found her newest student watching her granddaughter leave with a strange look on his face.

"What is it, Wolfgang?"

The young man turned his gaze to Abigail's and answered bluntly. "Should she be out in the town by herself after everything that has happened?"

"Do you think she'll be safe?" Abigail returned, wondering if she was becoming forgetful in her old age. Her granddaughter's safety was the most important thing to her, and she did not want Winnie to be harmed in any way.

Wolfgang shrugged in response, his eyes once again on the open doorway. "It may be that the men who attacked her parents were not after money. They might have really wanted to kill Jack and Jill, and they might have targeted Winnie next."

"Follow her," Abigail found herself commanding. "We'll suspend your lessons for the day. My granddaughter is more important."

Wolfgang gave her a short bow, surprising the older woman. "My pleasure," he told her, a smile flitting across his face. Abigail watched as he moved eagerly out the door, his amber eyes gleaming—he was on the hunt.

Watching him disappear after her granddaughter, Abigail smiled.

* * *

"Winnie! Are you all right?"

Winifred had been prepared for sympathy, but she was not prepared for the hysteric cries of Roselyn Lanton, who threw herself into her best friend's arms, her blue eyes misting with tears.

"I'm fine." Winnie found herself mumbling, extracting herself quickly from Roselyn's tight grip and blushing, wishing that her friend was not so dramatic.

"You poor thing!" Roselyn cooed sympathetically, her skirts swishing against the dirt as she pulled Winnie into her arms again.

Wriggling away from the other's cloying grasp, Winnie quickly diverted the conversation to a topic she knew would distract her friend. She didn't want to talk about her parents. The longer it took for the news to sink in, the more she could go on pretending her life was still normal. She didn't mind feeling numb if it meant that she could pretend that nothing was wrong.

"I came to help you pick out a new set of jewelry." She told Roselyn pointedly. "Don't you need them for the ball?"

"Of course I need new jewelry!" Roselyn gasped indignantly, brushing a brown curl out of her face. In a blue dress that accentuated every curve and offset her blue eyes and sable hair perfectly, Roselyn was the opposite of Winnie. Always fashionably dressed with her hair styled differently every day, Roselyn always dreamed of one day leaving Satuton to live somewhere else, preferably as a princess. Her parents owned The Bluebird Inn, and Roselyn loved to listen to the travelers' stories of far-off places.

"How did you come to be invited to a ball in Ibbot?" Winnie asked, more than willing to keep Roselyn's well-meaning but dramatic sentiments away from her parents. Roselyn had a good heart, but her favorite topic was herself, and she was easily distracted.

Roselyn gave her a smug smile. "My mother's cousin is a lady at court, and she extended an invitation. She told my mother that I should come, since I was of eligible age and should be presented to the prince. Imagine!" She gave a delighted shiver and a giggle at the idea. "Presented to Prince Gregory himself!"

Winnie nodded, knowing that she had to say very little once her friend began talking about fashion and the imperial court. However, Roselyn's next words stopped her cold.

"Although," Roselyn mused quietly, paying little attention to her companion, "if I can't marry Prince Gregory, I could always accept the hand of a lord or count. Or perhaps someone here at home," she continued, her face falling, "if I must. What do you think of Wolfgang Lothar? Have you seen him lately?" She suddenly demanded, turning to Winnie with a searching look. "We've known him since we were children, but he's been gone so long at the capital for schooling that I might not know him any more."

Winnie choked back a quick retort and blushed, thinking of that morning. "No," she coughed, "I have not seen him."

Roselyn frowned, two small creases in her forehead marring her perfect complexion. "I know that he is only three years older than you and I, but my momma thinks that he is a good match for me. She thinks my dreams of marrying a prince are silly," she confided to Winnie, who nodded, her mind racing, trying to keep herself from dwelling on Wolf for too long.

"Would Wolfgang make a good match?" Roselyn inquired, but Winifred was saved from answering by their arrival at Elsa's Jewels. Eager to get away from questions she didn't want to answer, Winnie hurried into the store, the bell tinkling in welcome, Roselyn right behind her, frowning at her friend's reticence.

The sweet and tangy smell of cinnamon and metal was the first thing to greet them as they stepped into the small shop, but the bustling owner was not far behind.

"Roselyn! Winifred!" Elsa Lothar hurried forward, her arms outstretched in greeting. Her eyes welled up as she spotted Winnie—as Jillian Nimble's oldest friend, the news of the Nimbles' death had hit her almost as hard as it had Winnie. Winnie returned the hug she was given gratefully, resting against Elsa for a moment before pulling away and allowing the older woman to hug Roselyn.

Elsa Lothar pushed her auburn hair away from her face and propped her hands on her hips, surveying the two young women before her. She had known Winnie almost since birth, and she had known Roselyn since the girl was only two years old—in fact, it was Elsa who was responsible for the two meeting.

Winnie, at the age of two, hiding from her mother in a delightful game of tag, darted into Elsa's shop, looking for a place to hide. With a mischievous smile, Elsa led Winnie behind a shelf of jewelry. To young Winnie's surprise, the space was already occupied by a wide-eyed little girl in a green dress, her ribbons askew.

Roselyn and Winnie had worked together to sneak past their mothers and burst into the street, giggling madly and not truly minding when their mothers finally found them, too pleased with themselves at having seemingly outwitted their parents. With that, a lasting friendship was born between two girls who might not have had any reason to acknowledge each other at all.

"You girls need jewels," Elsa announced, whirling away to the shelves and cases where she kept her hand-crafted jewelry. Elsa's husband was the town blacksmith and silversmith, and if she listened carefully, Winnie could always make out the ringing report of a hammer striking against metal from the forge behind the shop.

"Elsa, I'm going to a ball in Ibbot!" Roselyn could no longer keep the splendid news to herself, and Winnie watched as Elsa raised a hand to her cheek, gasping in surprise.

"That is an occasion!" Elsa told her young friend, looking up at Roselyn as her gray eyes sparkled with mirth. Elsa had already heard the news from Aleinah, Roselyn's mother, but the young woman was so ecstatic at the news that Elsa could not bear to spoil her fun.

"Is Winifred going with you?" At the sound of her name, Winnie looked up from where she had been examining a set of earrings crafted to look like the sun and moon.

"No," she responded quietly. "The invitation is for Roselyn only."

Elsa scrutinized Winnie for a moment, frowning slightly before turning back to Roselyn. "Well," she said brightly, drawing Roselyn's attention, "if you're going to have a new set of jewels, you must be receiving a new dress! Tell me all about it, and we'll find the perfect jewels to match!"

Winnie was only half listening as the two moved away, Roselyn's eager chatter quickly filled up the store, while Elsa's lower tones allowed the noise to rise and drop in a musical way. Winnie took no notice of the tinkling of the bell until she sensed a presence behind her. Before she could turn around, a familiar voice spoke, sending a shiver down her spine.

"Seems like I found you, Red."

"You were looking for me?" Winnie demanded, turning to glare up at Wolf. The taller man merely shrugged, reaching past her to examine a silver necklace adorned with red roses.

Holding it out to her, he told her with a smirk, "You should wear this. It matches your hair perfectly." Winnie continued to glare, backing away and bumping into the display.

"Go _away_." She hissed, darting around him to the other side of the store, suddenly feeling as if she couldn't breathe. He was too close. Even now he followed her across the shop, placing a hand on her arm.

"What's wrong, Red?" he teased. "You didn't mind when I was close to you this morning…" He trailed off suggestively, and Winnie felt her face burn red as she desperately tried to forget what he was alluding to. Unfortunately, she could remember all too clearly.

"Wolfgang!" Elsa's call rang out across the store, and Winnie watched with amusement and fascination as panic crossed the man's face.

Elsa approached her only son, looking reproachful. "Did you think you could come in here and not say 'good morning' to your mother?"

Wolf saw Winnie's brown eyes gleam as she grinned, and he smirked in response, but unfortunately, his mother took it as an insolent answer to her question, and she cuffed him. Wolf winced at the blow, resisting the urge to rub at the now-tender spot like a scolded child.

Wolf turned to Winnie after pacifying his mother with the assurance that he had missed her and had come to see her. Smirking, he tugged on a strand of red hair that had escaped the woman's braid.

Lifting her head away from his soft touch, Winnie continued to glare. She was distracted from giving a sharp retort by Roselyn, who approached quickly at Wolf's appearance, a silver and sapphire necklace gleaming at her throat.

"What do you think, Wolfgang?" She purred coyly, fluttering a hand to her throat and drawing the man's attention. "Do you think it matches my eyes?"

Wolf did not seem to hear her; indeed, he barely spared a glance as he continued to watch Winnie, his eyes dancing as a wicked smile curved his mouth.

Seeing her son's inattention, Elsa tapped her forefinger against his cheek, drawing his attention away from the black-clad woman he seemed so enraptured by. "Wolfie," she scolded, resorting to childhood nicknames only because he was acting like a rude child, "I have taught you better. Answer the young lady."

Wolf nearly groaned as he watched Winnie's eyes light up. "Wolfie?" She repeated, looking amused and delighted.

Unabashed, Wolfgang turned to Roselyn. While she certainly was beautiful, he had little interest in her. She was too obsessed with her looks and clothes for his taste, and he had never truly had an eye for fashion.

"They do compliment your eyes," he told her, knowing that was the sentiment she wanted to hear. Just as he suspected, she giggled in what he supposed was meant to be a pretty manner, but sounded shrill to his ears.

"Thank you, Wolfgang," she cooed, gliding away to examine her reflection in the mirror. "What do you think, Winnie?" She asked, her gaze not on the reflection of her friend but on the man that stood next to the red-head.

Winnie frowned in concentration. "They're too dark," she told Roselyn seriously, "they should be a lighter blue cut, or you should try a stone with more green tints in the blue in order to match your dress perfectly."

"An artist's daughter indeed!" Elsa laughed at Winnie's perfect evaluation of Roselyn's choice, leading the dark-haired girl back to try on a different set of stones.

"You have an eye for color, Red," Wolf commented, slipping an arm casually around her waist.

Wiggling away, Winnie fixed him with a glare, glad she finally had ammunition against his constant teases and taunts. "I am an artist's daughter, _Wolfie_ ," she informed him loftily, her eyes darkening at the mention of her mother, "and color is in my blood."

In answer, Wolf cupped her cheek in his hand, stroking his thumb against her cheek. His actions summoned a blush, and Winnie found her breath catching as she met the man's gaze, his eyes darkening for an entirely different reason.

"You may be an artist's daughter," he growled in a low voice, moving closer and dropping his head towards her so he was breathing the words against her lips, "but I don't have to be an artist to see that this color makes you beautiful."

"Winifred!" Elsa's call from across the shop gave Winnie a welcome excuse to escape Wolf's presence, wondering why she felt breathless. She felt Wolf's gaze following her across the room. She looked up to find Elsa watching her closely and Roselyn looking offended, as if Winnie had done something to purposefully invite Wolf's attentions.

"What do you think?" Elsa gestured to the quick sketch she had made of Roselyn's dress, filled with quick bursts of color from a hurried pencil. The dress appeared to be a blue-green color, more blue than green, with a fitted bodice and a full skirt. Next to the sketch, Elsa had laid out two necklace and earrings sets. One was a set of opals, speckled with blue and green flecks that shone against a midnight blue bed. The other was a stone that Winnie had never seen before, but the color was much better.

They shone against the sketch, perfectly reflecting the dress and making it seems as it glowed in the sunlit store, the facets of the jewels catching the sunbeams and glowing with soft shades of blue and green. The earrings were rounded blue-green stones, while the blue-green stone pendant lay on the counter, a simple piece that completed the picture.

"This one." Winnie nodded in affirmation and tapped the blue-green stones. Roselyn glanced at her friend and suddenly beamed.

"I knew you could help me!" She squealed, hugging Winnie and smiling at Elsa. "I don't have the money now," she told the shop owner, "but I can come back tomorrow if I tell Momma I found the perfect set."

"I'll hold it for you," Elsa promised generously, her auburn hair glowing in the sunlight as she smiled happily at the two young women.

"Come on, Winnie!" Roselyn's excitement was obvious as she tugged her red-headed friend towards the door. When Winnie was hesitant to follow, Roselyn turned back, looking suddenly apologetic.

"It's been a long day, Winnie," she said softly, "do you want to go home?"

Winnie shook her head, not ready to return to her grandmother's house and face the truth of what had happened the day before. If she could hold it at bay for a little while longer…

"I miss your mother," she told Roselyn, forcing a smile onto her face. "Has she had the baby yet?"

Satisfied that she had her friend's company for a little while longer, Roselyn turned back towards the door without answer, halting when she once again crossed paths with Wolf.

"Good-bye, Wolfgang." She said sweetly, laying a hand on his arm and smiling up at him.

Wolf barely spared her a curt nod. "Roselyn." Barely refraining from expressing her annoyance at his cool response, Roselyn wrapped her dark blue cloak around herself, letting herself out of the store in a huff.

Winnie began to follow, but Wolf stepped into her path. Wearily, Winnie lifted her face to his, allowing him to read in her open expression how tired she was of his interference.

"Red," he spoke unasked-for nickname softly, laying a gentle hand on her shoulder. "You don't have to keep running."

"I'm not running from anything," Winnie told him sharply, alarmed how perceptive he had been.

With a crooked smile, he stood aside, allowing her to pass. "Of course," he told her softly as she passed. "You're not running, you're hiding."

As his statement reached her ears, Winnie froze, anger once again boiling. The need to defend herself rose, but she would not give him the satisfaction of seeing her anger.

"Good-bye, Elsa," she called over her shoulder, pulling on her cloak. Opening the door, she added, "Good day, Wolfgang."

Wolf watched as she strode out the door and over to Roselyn's side. Remembering the acid in her voice as she bid him good day moments ago, he chuckled.

"If that's your attempt at wooing her," his mother observed from where she stood next to him, watching her customers depart, "you're not doing a very good job."

"It's all right," Wolf murmured, watching as Winifred and Roselyn disappeared down the street. "I'm not going to give up, just when I have made progress."

Elsa shook her head, unable to keep from smiling affectionately. "How do you know she returns your feelings?" Her son had been smitten with her friend's daughter for years. When he had returned from the capital's university with a passion for acting, and Elsa had sent him to Abigail for training, she had privately hoped that he might meet Winnie there, and the childhood friendship they had once had could possibly be rekindled into something more. Nothing would please her more than to have her son with the daughter of her best friend.

At his mother's question, Wolf smiled secretively, remembering the way Winnie had looked at him that morning, when he had nearly kissed her. She had been unable to move, and she had reached for him. "She'll come around," he told his mother complacently. "I've waited nine years; I can wait a little longer until I can convince her that she loves me as well."

"Well, then," Elsa murmured, her hand going to her throat where a broad, silver wolf's head pendant rested in the hollow of her throat, "perhaps I have jewelry to make."

The man's gaze followed his mother's hand, and he dared to glare at her. "No," he growled. "I will not allow you to sway her decision with that piece. I want her to return my affections without your prodding."

His amber eyes were full of yearning and years of wistful dreams as he stared at his mother. "I want her to love me as I am, not because you alerted her to my intentions."

The longing in his eyes, and Elsa's heart softened. He was her only son, and he only wanted to woo the woman he loved in a proper fashion, without any outside influence. "All right," she promised softly, pressing a maternal hand to his cheek. "I won't tell her, and," Elsa sighed, knowing that he needed this promise the most, "I swear by Fate that I will not interfere."

Her son's gaze cleared, and he smiled, his black hair shining like a raven's wing in the sunlight. He kissed her on the cheek, murmuring a quick "thank you" before bounding out the door, immediately following the path that Winnie and Roselyn had taken, returning to his original task set to him by Abigail.

Elsa smiled and shook her head, laughing softly to herself. Winifred and Wolf would make a beautiful couple if her son succeeded in winning the stubborn girl over. If he did—and Elsa hoped with all her heart that he did—she would be prepared. Pulling out one of the many scraps of paper that she always kept on hand, the shopkeeper made a quick sketch in broad, easy strokes that betrayed the fact that she had made this particular design many times before.

Holding the finished drawing before her eyes, the woman smiled, pleased with her work, her gray eyes gleaming with fond memories. Leaving a sign in the window that informed her customers that she had stepped out for a moment, Elsa hurriedly wrapped her shawl around herself and stepped out the back door, striding purposefully towards her husband's forge.

There was jewelry to be made.

* * *

 **A/N: Reviews are appreciated!**


	4. Accepting Comfort

**A/N: Thank you to all my reviewers and those who have stopped by to read this story. Please enjoy this next chapter!**

* * *

Chapter 4: Accepting Comfort 

Stepping into the Bluebird Inn was akin to stepping into a second home, and Winnie sighed in relief as she pushed her hood away from her face, welcoming the escape from the biting wind outside. As the two young women stepped into the warm establishment, a man slipped in behind them, unnoticed.

Winnie had barely crossed the threshold when Aleinah Lanton swept towards her, gathering her into a warm hug. "How are you?" She murmured in concern, her blue eyes trained on Winnie's face, looking for some outward sign of her grief.

"I'm fine," Winnie reassured the warm woman, knowing from the slight frown that marred Mrs. Lanton's features for a moment that the woman did not completely believe her. Thankfully for Winifred, her friend's mother did not press her further.

"Come on!" Winnie allowed herself to be tugged away by an excited Roselyn, following obediently, glad for an excuse to escape the prying eyes of the patrons in the inn. On their way to the stairs, which led to the upper story of the inn, where both the patrons stayed and Lanton family lived, the two young women passed a blonde man and woman who were arguing rather fiercely in hushed tones. As she moved around them, Winnie couldn't help but overhear part of their conversation.

"She was a simple baker, Hans; she couldn't have come up with a formula on her own!"

"She was a _brilliant_ baker, Greta, as well as our aunt! If she came up with that formula for an edible house, it is ours by familial right!"

Shaking her head, Winnie followed Roselyn to her friend's room, smiling at her friend's enthusiasm. Roselyn whirled into her lacy, lavender room, gesturing towards the wardrobe.

"You have to see my dress, Winnie! It's simply _exquisite_ , and I can't wait to go to the ball in a few days!"

With a flourish, Roselyn swung the wardrobe doors open, her blue eyes shining as she pulled the dress forward, holding it against herself.

Awed in spite of herself, Winnie examined the light silk creation, admitting that Elsa had done a beautiful job with the sketch in the jewelry store. A fitted bodice of blue-green silk included long sleeves with flowing cuffs, and the skirt, made of the same material, shimmered in the afternoon sunlight, leaving Winnie with no doubt that every time Roselyn moved, the dress would sway around her, the fabric's movements reminiscent of running water.

"Won't the water-stones match perfectly?" Roselyn practically squealed as she spun around, the dress still clasped in her arms.

"Is that what they're called?" Winnie asked absently, watching the blue-green silk swish, sway and settle as Roselyn stopped moving. The fabric's water-like movements were certainly eye-catching, as well as slightly mesmerizing.

"What costume is this?" The red-headed young woman asked her friend, remembering from her friend's enthusiastic remarks that the ball in Ibbot was to be a masquerade.

Roselyn beamed at the question, pulling out an ivory mask decorated with blue and green stones that sparkled in the sun. "I'm going to the masquerade as the Lady of the Seas."

Winnie nodded—the dress and jewels were appropriate. The Lady of the Seas was an old legend about a sea nymph that had wished to be human. The sea god had given her the ability to turn into a human with his magic, under one condition—if a human did not fall in love with her in four days, she had to return to the sea forever and become his wife.

The sea nymph went to land and became human, quickly falling for the young prince that saved her from the waves when she became caught in the water on her unsteady human legs. The prince, however, was already engaged, and the sea nymph despaired. One the fourth night, knowing that she would never be the prince's, and having no desire to be the sea god's wife, the nymph prepared to throw herself against the rocks that bordered the sea.

Just as she was about to step off the edge of the cliff, her prince appeared and confessed his love. Although the sea god—who had been watching the entire time—roared his anger in the form of furious storms, there was nothing he could do. The sea nymph remained human, and she and her prince were married.

"The prince won't know what to think of you," Winnie murmured, watching her friend reverently replace the dress and the mask.

Roselyn giggled, blushing at the compliment and with anticipation. "I wish I could go now," she sighed.

Below them, the sounds of arguing became louder, and as the voices grew to a crescendo, Aleinah Lanton appeared in the doorway, looking frazzled.

"Rose," she ordered, "I need you to go downstairs and help me calm those two down. They're brother and sister, and they're arguing loud enough to wake the dead, apparently about some dead aunt that may or may not have had an edible house somewhere in the forest."

To Winnie's surprise, Roselyn pouted, slowly closing her wardrobe's doors. "But Momma," she whined, "Winnie and I were going to go back to Elsa's to get the jewelry to complete my outfit."

Mrs. Lanton pushed her black hair out of her face and glared at her daughter. "You get downstairs now and help me, or there will be no ball to have jewelry for. Besides," she snapped when Roselyn opened her mouth to argue, looking mullish, "there's no way that Elsa has them finished already. You just ordered them this morning!"

Caught between them, Winnie looked away, feeling uncomfortable. Although such arguments were not uncommon between mother and daughter, hearing them bicker was sharply reminding her of all the times that she had disagreed with her own mother. If she had obeyed her mother, would have that made her mother's life more enjoyable? If she had done what her mother asked, perhaps her mother would still be here.

Guilt and pain and unreasonable accusations piled upon each other until Winnie could not take it any longer. Listening to the escalating argument in front of her and below her, something within the young woman seemed to crack, and she felt the walls begin to close around her, the air seeming to warm to an uncomfortable temperature around her.

" _Stop_ it!" She cried, not realizing she had spoken until both women fell silent and stared her, dumbfounded. The blood in her veins seemed sting against her skin as she turned wildly to her Roselyn, her red hair escaping its braid, her brown eyes frenzied and unfocused.

" _Stop it_!" Winnie cried again, unaware that her voice was becoming louder with every syllable that spilled from her lips. "Stop arguing with your mother! You should always do what she says, _always_ , because one day, she won't be there, and…"

Winnie was distantly aware that Mrs. Lanton was trying to calm her, that there were tears running down her cheeks, that she was sobbing in her anger and guilt and confusion, but she did not want another mother's comfort at the moment. She wanted _her_ mother to come to her, to wrap her in a hug and allow her to cry, to tell her everything would be all right.

But Jillian Nimble was gone, and there would be no mother to hold her now.

Winnie knew she had to get out. The walls seemed to close in on her, and the lavender paint swam before her eyes, and she felt sick. Without another word to either woman, she bolted past Mrs. Lanton and down the stairs, pulling her hood shakily over her face as she ran out the door.

In the silence that followed her abrupt exit, there was a sharp clatter as Wolf dropped the mug he'd been holding against the bar and ran after her, his amber eyes concerned. _What happened?_

* * *

Even though her breath felt as if it would never again reach her lungs, as if with every heartbeat her heart was trying to extricate itself from her chest, Winnie did not stop running until she reached the door to her house.

Her hands shook as she fumbled with the iron key, and after three tries, it finally fell into place. Bursting through the door, Winnie's frenzied pace sent her into the middle of the room before she could register what was happening.

Sinking down onto the wooden floor, Winnie took in her surroundings and allowed the sobs to continue tearing through her chest. There was a musty smell in the room, and there was no welcoming aroma of cooked food. There was no sound of her mother's paintbrushes clattering in their mugs as her mother moved around her studio, and there was no gently whistled tune to let her know that her father was near.

Silence reigned, and it was unbearable.

Winnie sobbed, thankful for the noise that broke the silence as she finally allowed her pain to surface. The tears ran down her cheeks and dropped onto her black mourning clothes. Winnie bowed her head, hunched over as the grief fully surfaced in her chest, a terrible ache that she had thought to bury, if she kept busy enough. If she could just keep herself busy enough, as she had originally planned, she could forget about what had happened two days ago.

Her plan had failed, and now she sat on the dusty floor of her abandoned home, curling her hands into fists, feeling the bite of her nails and reassuring herself that she was still alive.

The floorboards reverberated under her legs, and Winnie straightened, stiffening. She had forgotten that she had left the door open in her haste, and now she waited for the intruder to speak.

Wolf said nothing as he settled next to her. He did not touch her, nor did he say anything to ignite her temper and allow her to channel her grief into grateful anger. He allowed her to grieve, to cry, and he did not gloat, pointing out that he had been right: she had been hiding from the pain, hoping to push it away in order to continue living her normal life.

Winnie was not sure how much time passed before her sobs dissolved into silent tears that dissolved into sniffles. Sniffling, Winnie looked up Wolf, blinking away the last of her tears.

To her surprise, he gave her a weak smile and brushed her tears away with his fingers, offering her his sleeve in order to wipe her face. Winnie batted the sleeve away and used the hem of her cloak, smiling in thanks.

Wolf said nothing as Winnie sighed, leaning against him, pillowing her head on his shoulder. Wrapping a loose arm around her, he rested his cheek against the crown of her head, wishing he could take away her pain.

"Why are you here?" It was not an accusation, nor was Winnie angry by his appearance. Rather, she seemed quietly grateful for his presence, closing her eyes as the last of her painful sobs shook her frame.

"I was worried about you." Wolf knew that since she had just vented all her grief in front of him, she was bound to be vulnerable. He had no qualms in returning the same courtesy to her, and he answered her honestly.

"Your grandmother asked me to watch out for you. She was worried too, and she couldn't follow you around all day."

"But you can." Once again, there was no spite or anger in Winnie's voice as she responded. She seemed exhausted, but the lean man next to her thought he heard a hint of a sardonic laugh in her voice.

Winnie curled closer to Wolf, worn out and now seeking the human contact she had previously abhorred. His hand came up to stroke her head, his fingers lightly brushing against her red hair, and she sighed, reveling in the warm comfort that she felt. There was a simple reassurance in his touch, and although she could barely tolerate him, Winnie realized that this was the second time she had come to him for comfort.

The thought made her draw away immediately, embarrassed, and Wolf dropped his hand silently, making no remark about her abrupt withdrawal. He stood, reaching down to help her to her feet.

For a moment, Winnie gave in to the need for warm contact and leaned against him, pressing her forehead against his chest, feeling his heartbeat under her skin, inhaling his earthy, spicy scent, reminding herself that she was not alone.

Wolf did not move to embrace her, allowing Winnie her moment of reassurance, but he did wrap his arms loosely around her waist when she surprised him by wrapping her arms around his neck.

"Thank you," Winnie whispered, blushing in spite of herself. Quickly, she brushed a kiss against his cheek and stepped out of his loose embrace, moving towards the door and refusing to look back at him until he joined her own the doorstep.

The Parisa Forest was hushed in the twilight, a few bullfrogs calling to each other from a nearby pond. The sun had fallen behind the trees, giving the sky an orange and red glow while heightening the shadows in the forest, turning the entire woodland area into a place where time seemed to stop, for however brief a moment.

"Your grandmother will be waiting for us." Winnie turned at Wolf's quiet words, seeing that he was loath to break the silence that seemed to cast a spell over them both. His amber eyes were warm in the dying sunlight as he looked down at her. A small smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. "I promised her I would return you safely."

Winnie found a small smile creeping onto her face as well, the empty feeling of before replaced by a warm glow. The grief was gone temporarily—while the pain would never completely leave her heart, she would survive.

"We shouldn't keep her waiting," she agreed, leading the way into the darkening woods. Wolf caught up with her easily, noticing that her shoulders weren't curled so tightly with tension, and there was a sense of peace permeating the air around her that hadn't been there that morning. Wolf took a deep breath, some band in his chest loosening at the sight of Winnie's momentary serenity.

 _She'll be all right._

* * *

 **A/N: Reviews are always appreciated!**


	5. Balls and Blunders

**A/N: Enjoy! Thank you to all who have read and reviewed this story so far!**

* * *

Chapter 5: Balls and Blunders

Prince Gregory of Loken attempted to straighten his cravat for the fifth time that evening and sighed, frustrated. For such an elaborate costume, it did not make sense that the hardest part would be one of the simplest pieces of the entire outfit. Although he had valets and servants that he could easily summon with a single word, he had sent them all away. His parents had every servant in the castle working hard to make sure that this ball was perfect. Although he could request a servant's assistance, Gregory knew they had more than enough to do.

Giving up, Gregory turned away from the mirror in disgust. He tugged on his doublet, making sure that the gold trim laid straight and neat against the royal blue fabric, the same color as his eyes.

The masquerade had been his mother's idea. When Gregory had rejected every eligible young lady and princess that had come to visit them, Queen Arnia had informed him that he _would_ find a wife, even if she had to do it for him.

Hence the masquerade ball that he was being forced to attend. Every noble in Loken had been invited—every noble _lady_. Queen Arnia had at least managed to keep the young women within a year or two of her eldest son's own age of nineteen, but that didn't mean that Gregory was going to enjoy it.

If he didn't find a wife at the ball tonight—and it was probable that he would _not_ find a young woman in the span of a night—he would have to rely on his alternate plan: persuade his parents to allow him to marry his best friend.

A knock at the door halted his pacing, and Gregory swung open the heavy oak doors, smiling at his visitor's puzzlement.

"Greg? Why didn't Robert…" Lady Millicent of Hake's golden brow cleared as she realized why the crown prince had answered his own door. "Your mother has your valets setting up for the ball?"

"Unfortunately for my valets," Gregory laughed, stepping out into the hallway and closing the door behind him. Taking a closer look at the woman in front of him, he smiled. "Your tailors have outdone themselves this time, Millie."

Lady Millicent of Hake was dressed as the Flute Queen, complete with an emerald green silk cape tied around her neck. Her green eyes glowed at Gregory's praise, and she smoothed down the front of her fawn skirts self-consciously. She wore no mask—she was well-known at court, and she had no need to hide her face. Her blonde curls floated around her face, spilling down her shoulders and curling against her neck. A small wooden flute was tied to the sash at her waist, and Gregory couldn't help but grin at the sight of it.

"You're always true to the stories, aren't you Millie?"

The story of the Flute Queen was a well-known legend in Loken. It told of an ancient Loken king who was kidnapped by his enemies. He was held for ransom, but the queen did not have enough money to save her husband without draining the country's coffers.

While the king's advisors told her that she should use all the kingdom's money and ransom her husband. The queen knew that her husband would not be pleased if he returned home and found the country penniless. So the resourceful queen devised a different plan.

Taking nothing more than her flute, the queen disguised herself as a young man and found a group of traveling performers that were heading for the enemy's country. When they reached the enemy king's castle, the queen managed to slip into the king's private courtyard. Sitting down by the fountain, the queen began to play her simple wooden flute, so unlike the silver one that she was used to playing in her own castle.

The enemy king was enchanted by the music he heard flowing up to him from the courtyard, and he soon located the disguised queen and asked her what she desired, in reward for the beautiful music. Instead of asking for riches or power, the "young man" asked to save one of the king's prisoners.

Although the enemy king thought the request a strange one, he took the disguised queen to his dungeon. Discovering that her husband was still alive, the queen took him by the hand and led him out of the prison. She did not reveal her identity to him on the long journey home, and when they finally reached their castle, the queen would not go in with her husband.

Even though the king begged, the "young man" refused. When the king triumphantly returned, he went looking for his wife, hoping to tell her about his miraculous rescue. However, his advisors informed him that the queen was nowhere to be found. The king was disappointed, but overjoyed when the flute player finally deigned to enter the throne room. The king was shocked and pleased to discover that his wife was the one who had saved him from his enemy, and they lived happily together for the rest of their days.

Millie's fingers against Gregory's brought him out of his remembrance of the legend, and he looked up to find her smiling at him as she skillfully laid her fingers against the holes.

"I thought it was appropriate," she murmured, grinning. Millicent was a flute player herself, although her own flute was made of the finest metals, nothing like the wooden prop tied to her waist.

"Of course," Gregory agreed, looking up as a loud burst of a trumpet rang through the corridor—a summons. When Millie frowned, Gregory opened his mouth to ask what was wrong, but was silenced by her quick fingers at his throat, pulling and tucking the cravat into place.

"Thank you," Gregory sighed gratefully. "Fate knows I fought with it long enough."

"Gregory…" Millicent seemed hesitant to finish her sentence as Gregory looked at her. Gregory noticed that her hands trembled as she absently smooth his brown hair back into place, and he frowned, worried. It wasn't like Millie to be so timid and nervous.

Her hands stilled as he captured them in his. "Millie, what's upsetting you?"

The woman across from him would not look him fully in the eye, and Gregory released one of her hands in order to tip her face up to his, noticing that his gentle action had summoned a becoming blush to stain Millie's cheeks.

"I want you to know," she told him softly, straightening with the willfulness of the Millie he was used to, "that if tonight does not find you with a wife at its end, I would be honored to serve as your queen."

"You would honor me," Gregory told her softly, smiling as he brushed a kiss against her forehead. "It would give me great comfort to know that I had a friend by my side."

Millie looked...disappointed as Gregory pulled away, but she quickly mustered a bright smile to cover it. "We should get to the ball," she told him, her smile turning into a wicked grin as the prince groaned in reply.

"Do I have to?"

"Yes," Millie told him quietly. _Although I hope you don't enjoy it_ , she found herself thinking before pushing away such traitorous thoughts and taking his arm, forcing him to lead her to the ballroom.

How long had Lady Millicent of Hake been in love with Prince Gregory of Loken?

Forever, it seemed. Since childhood, at least.

* * *

"Now presenting His Royal Highness, Prince Gregory of Loken!"

At the herald's call, Roselyn Lanton found her gaze drawn to the large staircase, her heart beating wildly. Finally, after so many days spent wondering about this night, it was finally here. She was going to meet the prince!

The prince was handsome, she decided, taking in his gold and blue costume, the way it emphasized his blue eyes and highlighted the faint gold tints in his brown hair.

Frowning at the appearance of the golden-haired beauty on the prince's arm, Roselyn turned to her cousin Belinda for explanation.

"She's Lady Millicent of Hake," Belinda hissed in an undertone to Roselyn's silent question. "She's well-known as the prince's best friend, and everyone knows that she's besotted with him."

"But does he feel the same?" Roselyn wondered, watching the prince's gaze sweep the ballroom with a disinterested expression on his face.

Belinda shrugged, the white feathers on her Swan Queen costume quivering as she did so. "If he does, he has never given any indication."

When the prince reached the bottom of the steps, the crowd of women drew back, allowing him the ballroom's polished marble floor. The eligible young ladies moved to sit on the chairs placed against the gilded walls, each one of them praying to Fate to be the one that the prince approached.

However, Prince Gregory turned to Lady Millicent for the first dance of the evening, and no one in the room could miss the pleasure and pride on her face as she stepped into his arms.

Gregory lowered his arms at the end of yet another dance, resisting the urge to flee the ballroom and lock himself in his room for the remainder of the night. However, his parents sat on their thrones on a balcony overlooking the ballroom—which often doubled as a theater—and he knew that they would not be pleased if he did try to escape.

If he had it his way, he would have danced with Millie for the entirety of the evening, announcing his choice at the end. Millie would not giggle at everything he said, like some of the young women he had danced with, or say nothing at all, like some too terrified to speak in their prince's presence. However, he couldn't show that much favoritism, and risk upsetting some of the higher nobles that were here, offering their daughters to him.

A shimmer of blue and green caught his eye, and Gregory turned, intrigued by the water-like ripple of the material. The material was a dress, and the dress was clothing a young woman with sable hair and blue eyes that were surrounded by a gold mask studded with blue and green jewels. Who was she? The dress—and the young woman herself—were mesmerizing.

"May I have this dance?"

Roselyn nearly fainted as she looked up into the eyes of the crown prince. Belinda's warning pinch propelled her to her feet, and she found her tongue long enough to murmur a "yes, Your Highness" and sweep Gregory a curtsy before he led her onto the floor.

"Your dress is enchanting," Gregory murmured, "although I would say that the woman wearing it is even more breathtaking."

Roselyn blushed behind her mask, a smile curling her lips. "Thank you, Your Highness."

"What is your name?" Gregory watched her curiously. This young woman was unlike the others, he knew instinctively. She did not hide behind her mask, but she seemed to draw confidence it at the same time, and she appeared poised and graceful.

"Miss Roselyn Lanton of Satuton," Roselyn replied, blushing again. What if the prince rejected her because she was common?

Gregory's eyes sharpened with interest. "Satuton? I was told that the famous actress Abigail Allen lives there."

Roselyn visibly brightened, thanking Fate that she had been granted a subject she knew plenty about. "I know Abigail well," she told the enraptured prince, "she's my friend's grandmother."

"Fascinating," Gregory murmured, tightening his grip around her waist. "I have been told that she was the greatest actress in Loken, and I am a lover of theater."

"As am I, Your Highness," Roselyn told him, hoping he didn't discern her bold lie from the blush that stained her cheeks.

Gregory shook his head, smiling. Although the musicians continued their steady waltz, he stopped dancing, releasing Roselyn.

Roselyn faltered, hoping she had not said something improper. She was relieved when the prince took her hand, pulling her towards the door.

"Come with me to the gardens," he whispered to her. "There are too many eyes here, and I wish to discuss our love of theater further."

Her heart beating wildly against her ribs, Roselyn obediently followed.

* * *

It may have been hours, or merely minutes later, when Roselyn heard her name being called. She pulled away from the prince's soft embrace, and he grunted in surprise when she ended the kiss abruptly.

"Roselyn!" It was Belinda, and Roselyn felt her heart plummet as her cousin finally spotted them and approached as quickly as her voluminous skirts would allow.

Standing and smoothing down her skirts, Roselyn bit back her sharp retort as she saw her cousin's panicked visage.

"What's wrong?" Roselyn asked, warmth flooding her as Gregory stood protectively next to her and took her hand.

"A messenger just came from my house," Belinda gasped, bobbing the prince a quick curtsey. "It appears my husband has become gravely ill."

"We have to go?" Roselyn asked sadly, knowing the answer but pouting anyway, hoping to sway her cousin's decision.

Belinda nodded, distracted, pulling at Roselyn's arm. "We have to go. You'll have to travel home tomorrow morning. I cannot risk your falling ill as well."

Reluctantly, Roselyn turned to Gregory. In the starlight, his blue eyes glowed silver, and the smell of roses perfumed the garden. It was the perfect romantic setting, marred by the presence of her frantic cousin, and she despaired that she would not be able to enjoy it more.

"I have to go," she told the prince softly, and Gregory nodded.

"I understand," he told her, kissing her gently.

Belinda barely waited for them to part before she pulled Roselyn away. Hurrying after her cousin, Roselyn risked once glance back at Gregory, trying to capture the moment in her mind forever. On this night, at this ball, she had danced with and been kissed by a prince. This would be a night she would never forget.

It wasn't until she was in the carriage with Belinda that she realized that one of her shoes was missing.

* * *

When Gregory returned to the ballroom alone, he was greeted by silence. The young ladies had somehow all vanished while he had been in the gardens, the musicians had ceased playing, and his parents were standing in the middle of the room, looking at him expectantly.

It wasn't until Gregory looked to Millie and found the look of betrayed horror on her face that he understood what had happened. His parents had ended the ball while he was in the garden, and sent the other young ladies home. Unwittingly, he had foiled his own plans. Unwittingly, he had given the last dance of the evening to Miss Roselyn Lanton of Satuton.

He had chosen his betrothed. Without a word, Millie turned away and hurried out of the ballroom, but not before he saw the disappointment, the hurt in her eyes. His mother was beaming, and Gregory felt his heart fall.

He would be expected to marry Roselyn.

* * *

 **A/N: Reviews are always appreciated!**


	6. A Missing Shoe

**A/N: Thank you to all who have reviewed! Enjoy this chapter!**

* * *

Chapter 6: A Missing Shoe

"Winnie!"

Winifred slowly opened her eyes, consciousness returning to her sluggishly out of sleep, wondering who could be pounding on her grandmother's door at this hour. The light that struggled through her curtains was a rose-tinted gray, the color of dawn that was barely beginning.

"Winnie!"

Resisting the urge to burrow beneath the covers in her sleepiness and reluctance to assist the voice she recognized, Winnie stumbled out of bed, almost tripping over Cate in her bleary-eyed hurry. Her cat disappeared down the hallway the second her mistress opened the door, her tail held stiff in offense.

Winnie made her way towards the door, but hands clamping down on her shoulders and moving her aside halted her progress. Shirtless, barefoot and wearing nothing more than a pair of loose black pants that clung to his hips, Wolf padded past her, warning her to stay back with a hand.

Swinging open the door, Wolf was surprised to find a frantic Roselyn Lanton standing on the doorstep, clutching a blue-green ballroom slipper in her right hand. The state of his undress did not deter her as it once might have—she merely blushed before gazing beseechingly behind him, where Winnie hovered, her brown eyes wide with sleep and worry, her red hair more rumpled and wavy than usual, clothed in nothing more than a thin white nightgown.

Winnie watched as Roselyn's eyes darted from her to Wolf and back again; watched in confusion as Roselyn's lips flickered into a small smirk, amused at the puzzle she thought she had solved correctly.

"I'm sorry if I _interrupted_ anything," she told the two slyly, her smirk growing. At Winnie's blush and Wolf's averted gaze, she seemed to take pity on them, and she returned to her current errand, her smirk smothered by anxiety.

"Winnie, I need your help," she pleaded, and Winnie could see that she was trembling in the dawn light, terrified and reduced to begging.

Winnie stared at her friend, considering the other girl. It had been a week since she had last seen Roselyn, a week since she had fled the Bluebird Inn and Roselyn had departed to and returned from the ball in Ibbot. Despite not communicating with the other young woman for that week, Winnie found that she could not deny her friend help, no matter how she felt towards Roselyn at that point in time.

"I'll come to the Inn," she told Roselyn, who beamed at her gratefully, looking as if all her worries had been wiped away.

"I'll wait for you there," Roselyn told her, turning away and hurrying down the path, stuffing the slipper into her reticule as she went, as if she did not want anyone to see it.

Wolf closed the door softly, and with the quiet _click_ of the latch, Winnie was reminded of Roselyn's incorrect assumption.

"She thinks we slept together?" The young woman asked her half-dressed companion, unable to ignore how he smirked at her in the half-light, his amber eyes glowing with mirth even in the dawn shadows.

"We could prove her right," Wolf suggested in a husky voice, striding forward to wrap her in his arms.

They stood together in the quiet half-light, and the way Winnie found herself leaning towards him frightened her more than anything he could say. She pulled away from him and turned towards her room, eager to escape him and quelled all feelings of regret as he easily let her go.

"I have to meet Roselyn," she told him over her shoulder in response.

"That's neither a 'yes' nor a 'no,'" Wolf retorted, grinning.

The sharp slam of her bedroom door was his only answer.

* * *

"Greg, you need sleep!"

Lady Millicent of Hake watched with worry and exhaustion as her best friend paced the rich carpet of his bedchamber, frowning and gripping a blue-green slipper tightly in his left hand.

Prince Gregory had not slept for three nights now, too busy pacing the room and worrying about the situation he had found himself in.

"I can't go back on my word," he fumed, his white-knuckled grip bruising the decorative embroidery on the sea-green slipper.

"You didn't give your word," Millie pointed out for the seventh time that morning, stifling a yawn behind her hand. Greg had asked her to come to his side just after midnight, and his personal valet Robert had looked apologetic as he led the robe-clad Lady Millicent down the silent corridors. It was nearly dawn now, and Millie was exhausted.

"It doesn't matter any longer that my parents gave my word for me!" Gregory exclaimed, throwing his hands into the air in frustration, the slipper flying from his grasp. "The entire kingdom is planning for my wedding to Miss Roselyn Lanton!"

Millie watched helplessly as Gregory stormed over to the fireplace, leaning tiredly against the mantel, slumping as he stared at the flames that flickered slowly in the grate. Millie could read his exhaustion and helplessness in the taut muscles of his back, and anger burned away her sleepiness as she realized that she could do nothing to help him. His parents had effectively chosen a bride for him, even against his protests after the ball, and Gregory was as trapped as if he had been forced into an arranged marriage.

Reaching down to capture the discarded slipper in her hand, Millie lifted it to her eyes, inspecting it in the firelight. The blue and green adornments sparkled at her, and she resisted the urge to fling it in the fire, jealousy towards the woman who wore it causing her to lose sight of reason for a moment. What had this enchanting woman said or done to cause Gregory to sweep her off to the private rose gardens after a single dance?

"Why did you choose her?"

Millie had not meant to voice her question aloud, but she could not say that she regret the words passing her lips. Greg turned towards her, his blue eyes shadowed and tortured.

"I don't know," he told her slowly, his brows knitting in confusion. "There was something in her dress…the colors drew me in, as if she truly was the Lady of the Seas. She had a simplicity about her, a confidence…" He grasped for further explanation and failed. "She was different than the other nobles; she had a commoner's blunt way of speaking, not a courtier's subtle tricks and lies."

Millie looked away, his words wounding her more than she would admit. She was a courtier, and a noble—did that mean that she was not enchanting enough to be considered for his wife?

Gregory seemed to sense her pain in the silence that hung between them, now strained and tense. Pushing away from the mantel he had been leaning against, he went to her, sinking down on his knees before her, peering earnestly up at her.

"Millie…" She could not refuse the soft, pleading tone he used, and the lady turned back towards him, turning an icy green stare towards his uplifted and repentant gaze.

"You are my best friend," Gregory told her, and Millie felt her heart fall when he did not add anything more. "If I had my choice, I would marry you."

Perhaps it was the early morning, or the lack of sleep, but suddenly, hearing his assurance that he would rather marry his best friend than some woman he had spent a romantic evening with was not enough.

"I will always be your best friend, won't I?"

The heir to the throne blanched at Millie's bitter tone, and he gazed at her, puzzled. "Yes," he agreed slowly, not understanding why she seemed to become angered at his acquiescence.

"What of this Roselyn Lanton?" Millie hissed, drawing herself up on the couch and glaring at the slipper she held out towards him. "Do you love her?"

Gregory flinched away from her anger, rising to his feet and beginning to pace again. "I am not sure," he told her honestly, desperately, halting his sudden pace and swinging to face her, his blue eyes feverish in his desperation to make her believe his confusion.

"I know she is beautiful, and I know that I am attracted to her," Gregory murmured, unwilling to glance at Millicent and gauge her reaction.

"Well, perhaps you should journey to Satuton and spend some time with her!" Millie's sarcastic suggestion was made bitingly, with all the anger she could muster.

However, in his desperation, Gregory took her suggestion as a serious one. "Yes!" He cried, startling Millie as he wrenched the slipper from her grasp, smoothing the crumpled fabric and holding it as it glittered in the firelight.

"If I become her friend," he mused, "it will be easier to follow my parents' decree and marry a friend."

Millicent felt her heart plummet at this new plan, and she tried to hold the tears at bay. For thirteen years, she had kept her love for the prince a secret, and now she was being replaced by some _commoner_ who had enchanted Gregory?

Anger and despair propelled the woman to her feet, and she stalked over to the relieved prince, her green eyes sparkling with unshed tears and pent-up frustrations.

"You may be so lucky as to befriend her," she said quietly, her voice hollow, "but know that I will always love you."

Millie saw Gregory's eyes widen, but she did not give him time to react to her foolish words. Knowing that she had just placed their entire friendship on a delicate edge, Millie threw it all carelessly to Fate, leaning up to press a soft kiss on Gregory's lips.

Astounded and shocked, Gregory could give no response, and Millie pulled away before his mind began working again. Greg caught the glint of her tears in the dying firelight as she wrapped her robe around herself and fled his room.

Just before the heavy oak door closed behind her, Gregory could have sworn he heard the softest of sobs, the sound of a heart shattering like glass. Sinking down into Millie's vacated seat in a confused heap, Gregory buried his head in his hands.

 _What had he done?_

* * *

"You need my help to find a shoe?"

"They are my mother's!" Roselyn wailed, desperate and pleading. "I _have_ to find it!"

Winnie stared at her friend incredulously for a moment longer before sighing. "Where did you last remember seeing it?"

Roselyn frowned, her brows drawn together in thought. "My cousin Belinda and I were leaving the ball…"

Winnie remained silent, allowing her friend to come to her own conclusion. Roselyn's eyes widened moments later when she realized where the missing item must be.

"Oh, may Fate be kind," she moaned, sinking down on her bed and clutching at the single slipper next to her. "I left it at the ball, in the rose garden!"

"Are you planning on returning to Ibbot to retrieve it?"

"How can I?" Roselyn moaned and buried her head in her pillow, her brown curls fanning onto her bed. "Gregory must have found it by now!"

Winnie glanced at her friend sharply, her brown eyes curious. "'Gregory?'" She repeated. "You are on familiar terms with the crown prince?"

"No," Roselyn retorted, lifting her blush-stained cheeks from the pillow and glaring at her friend.

Winnie knew the other woman was lying, but she did not feel like arguing with Roselyn until her friend admitted the truth. It was too early in the morning for such small squabbles. Flopping onto the soft coverlet next to her friend, Winnie nearly bolted from the bed at Roselyn's next question.

"What did I interrupt this morning between you and Wolf?"

" _Roselyn!_ " Winnie yelped, sitting upright and cursing the blush that flooded her face. She couldn't believe that her friend would bring up such a topic, even if they were alone in Roselyn's bedroom.

Roselyn smirked at the red-headed young woman, her blue eyes sparkling with laughter, pleased she had gotten such a reaction. " _Something_ did happen!" She squealed triumphantly, pouncing on Winnie, wrapping her hands around the other's arm and tugging.

" _Nothing_ happened!" Winnie shot back vehemently, annoyed. "Wolf likes to tease me, and he is my grandmother's student! He means nothing to me!"

Roselyn settled back among her pillows, refusing to take Winnie's denial seriously. "The way he looks at you does not seem like 'nothing,'" she pointed out, and Winnie froze, unable to say anything to defend herself.

No, she would not think of the many times she had caught him watching her since she had encountered him again. No, there was nothing there! The teasing, the gentle caresses, they were nothing more than a way to annoy her! He enjoyed watching her react, nothing more!

When she voiced this last thought aloud, Roselyn merely shook her head, as if she were the experienced one and Winnie was the naïve maiden who had much to learn.

Frustrated, Winnie stalked across the room with every intention of leaving the inn. Rustling behind her informed the red-haired young woman that Roselyn had deserted the comfort of her bed in order to stop Winnie from leaving.

Winnie slowed at the tugging on her arm, but she kept her hand on the doorknob while Roselyn pleaded. "Winnie…" Roselyn's voice was soft, and even without looking at her, Winnie could see her friend's face: blue eyes large and pitiful, her brown curls askew as she gazed desperately at her friend. "I need your help."

Winnie refused to turn until a whispered "please" reached her ears. Roselyn was not begging because she wanted someone nearby to help her find a missing shoe; she was truly terrified and needed her friend's support.

Before Winifred could do anything more than smile at her friend, Aleinah Lanton entered the room, frowning at the sight of her daughter and Winnie perched on pillows in the middle of the bed. There were other things on the woman's mind, and with an inn to run, she did not have time to puzzle over her daughter's odd behavior since being sent swiftly home from the ball days before.

Feeling her unborn child give a strong kick, Aleinah pressed a hand to her stomach and told her daughter, "There are two young men downstairs looking for you."

Roselyn turned to Winnie as her mother left, her blue eyes wide and her brows drawn together in confusion. Winnie knew that her own expression mirrored that bewilderment, but she sighed in relief as they slid off the pillows and Roselyn retrieved the slipper from where they had stuffed it under the coverlet.

Roselyn smiled as she slid the blue-green slipper into her reticule and locked the bag away in the wooden chest at the end of her bed. Winnie shook her head at her friend's expression, pointing out, "Your mother could have found that slipper."

"No, she wouldn't have," came Roselyn's calm and confident reply. "She would merely have found it and then guessed that I had foolishly misplaced the other." An ironic smile tipped her lips as she looked up at Winnie. "She would have been right."

Pausing at the railing that overlooked the large common room of the inn, the two young women easily located their visitors in the early morning crowd.

Winnie groaned at the sight of the dark-haired amber-eyed man that waited for them below. "Must he follow me _everywhere_?" She hissed to her friend, while Roselyn giggled in response.

The other young man was not as tall as Wolf, and he was not nearly as well-built. His brown hair flopped into his blue eyes, and he was simply dressed. He stared around the inn in fascination, as if he had never seen a tavern before.

When Winifred turned to ask her friend who the young man was, she was surprised to find that Roselyn seemed frozen at the railing, her mouth open in shock as all the color drained from her face.

"No…" she breathed in disbelief, staring at the young man as if he would disappear.

"You know him?" Winnie asked, curious. Who was he? Roselyn knew some of the regular travelers at the inn, but the young man below them did not look travel-stained or worn at all.

She was posing questions to empty air. Roselyn was already at the bottom of the stairs, poised, waiting for the young man to notice her.

Both men turned at the sound of her descent, and while Wolf's gaze grew quizzical and only cleared when he found Winnie staring down at them from the top of the steps, the other young man stared at Roselyn, transfixed.

The young woman was the first to break their staring contest. "Gregory…?" She breathed, half-question, half-hope as she watched him.

Above them, watching the scene unfold, Winnie blinked. Gregory? That couldn't be the prince, could it?

The disguised prince gave Roselyn a loose bow, and Winnie caught sight of something blue-green flash at his belt. "Miss Roselyn Lanton. I have come in hopes of making your further acquaintance."

* * *

 **A/N: Reviews are appreciated!**


	7. Getting to Know You

**A/N: Thank you to all who reviewed! Enjoy!**

* * *

Chapter 7: Getting to Know You 

Roselyn hesitantly approached the prince, as if she could not believe he was standing before her. She stopped a few steps away, staring at him quizzically. Belatedly, she swept him her best curtsy.

"Forgive me, Your Highness," Winnie heard Roselyn murmur as from her place halfway down the stairs, "why are you here?"

At her question, the prince looked uncomfortable. "Is there a private place we could go to speak?" He asked, glancing around at the other patrons. "It is too sensitive a matter to discuss here."

"Of course," Roselyn told him, gesturing towards the stairs. "There is a private sitting room where we will be undisturbed."

Gregory watched as she cast an anxious glance at the other young woman, and he smiled at her unspoken question, even though it felt forced. "Your friend may join us," he told her graciously, the smile melting to one of true pleasure when he was rewarded with a dazzling smile. If she was charmed by such a simple gesture, maybe this marriage wouldn't be so bad after all!

Gregory and Roselyn had just reached the stairs when Wolf blocked their way. Ignoring Roselyn's protests, he glared at the young man before him, his amber eyes narrowed in distrust. "I don't care if you're the crown prince," he growled, "you are not going anywhere with Winnie alone."

On the stairs, Winnie caught the last of his statement and blushed in embarrassment, sharing an annoyed glance with Roselyn.

Fortunately, the prince did not become angered by such a bold threat. "I see your point," he said quietly, "and it is only right that you accompany us as an escort."

Wolf nodded stiffly, standing aside to allow Roselyn and Gregory to pass. Giving the prince a short bow as he passed, Winnie followed the two back up the stairs, glaring at Wolf as he caught up.

"What _possessed_ you to say something like that?" She hissed at him, blushing in anger and embarrassment.

Wolf did not look at her as he replied. "I told your grandmother I would watch out for you. I'm not about to let you wander off alone."

In response, Winnie grumbled something under her breath that sounded suspiciously similar to Wolf's growl. Wolf chuckled, daring to wrap an arm around her waist as they followed Roselyn and Gregory.

"Don't worry, Red," he reassured her, mirth lacing his voice as he pulled her closer. "I won't let anything happen to you."

Snorting in annoyance, Winnie pulled away, moving as close to the wall as possible, forcing Wolf to drop his arm. Moving ahead, Winifred followed Roselyn and Gregory into the warm sitting, sinking down in an armchair.

As Wolf closed the door behind them and bolted it, taking a seat in another armchair across from Winnie, Gregory stood before Roselyn, every muscle in his body taut with nervousness.

"Miss Roselyn Lanton," he began softly, capturing Roselyn's full attention with only her name. "My parents decreed that, on the night of the ball, the woman I gave the last dance to would be my bride." Roselyn gave a soft gasp, her eyes wide, and Gregory nodded.

"While you and I were in the garden…talking," the prince stumbled over his words, and Winnie watched as both blushed, avoiding the other's gaze, "my parents ended the ball, and you were the last woman I danced with."

Winnie gasped now, realization dawning. Roselyn was going to become the prince's wife? Looking up, she found Wolf watching the pair with astonishment.

Winnie turned her gaze to her friend, and found Roselyn sitting perfectly still on the chaise, her blue eyes glowing in the sunlight and a smile on her lips. Her cheeks were high with color, and she stared at the prince as if he were a fairy come to life before her eyes, causing her every wish to come true.

To the shock and surprise of everyone in the room, Prince Gregory of Loken dropped to his knees before Miss Roselyn Lanton, leaning forward to grasp her hands in his larger ones.

"Roselyn," he said softly, causing the woman to blush at her name being used in such a familiar way, "I wish to marry you. I wish to stay here in order that we might get to know each other."

For a moment, Winnie thought Roselyn wasn't going to respond. "Your Highness," she breathed finally, "you honor me. I will marry you!"

Roselyn looked ecstatic, blushing becomingly as the prince slid a gold-and-diamond band on her finger. Winnie watched the prince, and for a moment, it seemed that hurt and longing flashed across his face, but the next moment, it was replaced by the previous nervousness and hesitation, then wiped away by a tremulous smile at the sight of his bride-to-be's obvious delight.

Winnie looked away as Roselyn and Gregory embraced, only to find Wolf watching her with a worried expression. When he found Winnie watching him, the long-haired man smirked at her, raising his eyebrows suggestively. Glaring, Winnie looked away.

"Winnie! Can you believe what's happened?" Roselyn's excited voice brought Winnie's brown gaze back to her friend, where Roselyn was curled against Gregory, looking deliriously delighted.

"Congratulations!" Winnie told them, forcing a smile before biting her lip. How was Roselyn's mother going to take the news? She had thought her daughter's dreams were silly, and with an unborn child on the way, would she want her oldest to go and live in the capital?

"We must go tell Momma!" Roselyn announced gleefully, pulling an agreeable Gregory towards the door. Winnie rose to follow, but Wolf's hand on her arm gave her pause at the door, and she turned to look up at him.

"I don't like this," he growled, watching an ecstatic Roselyn and smiling Gregory descend the stairs arm in arm. "The prince does not act like a man in love—he acts like a man doing something that is required of him."

"What do you know of a man in love?" Winnie asked, scornful. "Perhaps he doesn't show emotion easily."

The heat in Wolf's eyes made her uncomfortable as he gazed down at her, and the husky timbre of his voice as he answered her made her shiver. "You'd be surprised how much I know of love, Red."

"Winnie!" Roselyn's call floated back to them from the bottom of the stairs. "Where are you?"

"Coming!" Winnie called back, glad for the escape, ignoring the fact that Wolf once again caught up with her when she left the room. She ignored his extended arm when they reached the stairs, descending before him and going to stand at Roselyn's side, pasting on a smile at the small crowd that had gathered.

Roselyn turned to Winifred and Wolfgang as they joined her, her blue eyes sparkling with joy and excitement. "Winnie! Gregory is announcing our wedding at the end of the month, and he wants me to go stay with his cousin, Count Rueben Reynard while his servants order and complete my wedding trousseau!"

Before Winnie could completely process all the information, Roselyn was already racing on, excitement and unbelief at her good fortune coloring every word. "You'll go with me, won't you, Winnie? I need you to go with me and help me learn to be a princess! You _have_ to go, I need you to help me with my trousseau!"

It took a moment longer for all the information to sink in, but Winnie finally mustered a response, her head spinning. "I'll ask my grandmother if I can go."

"Thank you!" Roselyn squealed, squeezing Winnie in a tight hug before being engulfed by curious patrons and her sobbing mother.

Wolf managed to pull Winnie out of the way before she was crushed by well-wishers and fame-seekers hoping to get near the new royal couple. A sharp whistle from Gregory summoned his guards that had been waiting outside the inn, and Winnie and Wolf had to press themselves against a wall as the loyal guards nearly trampled them both in order to get to the prince's side.

Winnie stumbled back against Wolf as the guards strode past, and Wolf caught her against him, backing up, farther away from the melee, his arms warm around her and his hands gentle as he helped her regain her balance.

Blushing at the close proximity, Winnie untangled herself from his embrace and stared up at him, her mind returning to the conversation she had just held with Roselyn.

"What did I just agree to?" She asked Wolf quietly, her head still spinning slightly from the onslaught of information.

"Well, Red," Wolf smirked at her, playing with the loose strands of hair that had escaped her braid, "I'd say you just agreed to be Princess Roselyn's lady companion on her journey to Ibbot."

Winifred blamed the next words out of her mouth on the shock she was experiencing. "Will you go with me?" She blurted out, blushing as the question left her lips.

The look Wolf gave her was unfathomable. "You want me to go with you and Roselyn?" He asked, clearly surprised, and Winnie blushed again, his surprise echoing her own.

"Well, Red," Wolf drawled, grinning down at her, "I'm flattered. You would miss me if I wasn't there, wouldn't you?" Brushing his fingertips over her cheek, his smile grew wider. "I'll go," he murmured in low voice, causing Winnie to shiver, all too aware of the fact that they were quite alone in such a crowded room at that moment, with everyone's attention on the new royal couple. "I would miss you too, if I didn't go with you."

Winnie resorted once again to glaring in reply, pushing his hand away. "I changed my mind, _Wolfie_ ," she hissed, "don't go."

Wolf merely smirked, clearly gloating. "Red," he told her lazily, leaning against the wall, "you forget that if your grandmother lets you go, I'll have to go to make sure you come back to her alive."

Winnie opened her mouth to retort, but came up with nothing. Spinning away from, she settled for stalking away from the infuriating man, fuming over his words. He was right, of course, but that didn't mean he had to be so annoying when he pointed it out to her.

Without saying good-bye to Roselyn—she had already congratulated her friend, and she knew she would see Roselyn later—Winnie left the Bluebird Inn, rolling her eyes at the sight of the large crowd that had gathered outside the inn, kept at bay by some of the prince's men. In such a small town, news traveled fast, and it was no surprise that the entire town had come to see one of their own engaged to the prince.

As Roselyn's friend, she was quickly besieged by questions, and it was impossible for Winnie to get away from the crowd that quickly surrounded her and swallowed her up, questions swarming from all directions:

"Winifred! Is it true—?"

"Is the crown prince really here?"

"Is there a ring?"

"Winifred! Are they going to live in—"

"Winnie!"

Winnie looked up gratefully to find her grandmother fighting her way through the crowd, Rudy easily clearly a path beside her. Winifred dove towards Abigail, pulling away from the hands that tugged on her cloak and the voices that followed her, demanding answers.

With Rudy's help, Abigail and Winnie soon found themselves on the outer edges of crowd. Moving away from the excited townsfolk, Abigail turned towards her granddaughter, her green eyes lighting up.

"Is it true?" She asked. "Did Prince Gregory ask Roselyn Lanton to marry him?"

Winnie barely refrained from glaring, annoyed that her grandmother could be so nosy at times. "Yes," she growled, "Roselyn and the prince are engaged."

Abigail Allen actually clapped her hands at the news, giving Winnie an idea of what her grandmother must have been like when she was her granddaughter's age.

"That is exciting news!" Winnie glanced at Rudy, and finding no help from his amused gaze, turned to another topic.

"Grandma," she started hesitantly, "Roselyn wants me to go with her when she leaves to live with the prince in Ibbot. She wants my help with her wedding trousseau."

"Of course you can go!" Abigail told her granddaughter, beaming. "I've always wanted you to see the capital, and when Rudy and I come to Ibbot for the wedding, I'll give you a tour!"

Before Winnie could say anything more, Abigail frowned and added, "You must take Wolf with you. Ibbot is a city full of theaters, and he could benefit from the exposure. Besides," she said gently in response to Winnie's frown of disgust, cradling her granddaughter's face in her hands, "your parents would never approve if I let you go alone."

Winnie sighed, knowing her grandmother was right and trying to ignore the hollow ache in her chest that began again when Abigail mentioned her parents.

"I'm honored that you would let me go, Abigail." Winnie glared as Wolfgang Lothar appeared out of the crowd, looking completely unmolested and wearing a delighted grin. "I look forward to seeing the grand theaters of Ibbot."

"Take Winnie with you when you go," Abigail instructed him, ignoring the way her granddaughter squawked in indignation and protest. "She should have a healthy appreciation for performances."

Wolf grinned down at Winnie, who gaped at her grandmother. "With pleasure."

"Don't look at me like that," Abigail scolded Winnie, who had once again reverted to glaring. "It'll do you go to see some entertainment while you're in Ibbot."

"Do I have to go with _him_?" Winnie knew that she sounded like a whiny child, but she could not help herself. Abigail frowned at her, but before she could rebuke her granddaughter, Wolf spoke up.

"She's just protesting for fun," he said easily, sliding an arm companionably around Winnie. "She asked me to go to Ibbot with her."

"Did you?" Abigail looked pleasantly surprised, beaming at her granddaughter. Winnie blushed and sent Wolfgang a glare that promised murder, trapped by her own tongue.

"Yes," Winnie growled, wriggling out of Wolf's hold. Suddenly fed up with both Wolf and Abigail, she told them shortly, "I'm going home," and strode past them, heading towards the forest.

Frowning, Abigail started after Winnie, gossip and royal couples forgotten, leaving Wolf and Rudy to follow.

* * *

"Did I tell you about—"

"Yes."

"And the time that—"

"Yes."

"What about the time—"

" _Yes_ , for Fate's sake, Roselyn! I've heard about every kiss you and the prince have had!" Winifred Nimble yelped, ignoring the way her friend pouted, glancing at Wolf, rolling her eyes in response to his smirk.

Perhaps Winnie should have apologized, but at that moment, they arrived at their destination, and Roselyn lost her pout in favor of a smile as she sailed into Elsa's Jewels, brimming with news and excitement, leaving Winnie and Wolf to follow.

"Elsa!" Winnie heard Roselyn cry as she hurried towards the shopkeeper. "Are they finished?"

"I finished them just this morning," Elsa replied, smiling affectionately at Roselyn's excitement and giving Winnie and Wolf a nod and a smile as they entered the store.

Although Prince Gregory had promised his new bride that she could have jewelry made by the finest jewelers in the kingdom, Roselyn had insisted that only Elsa Lothar supply the jewels for her wedding trousseau. Flattered, Elsa had used her best jewels and gold and silver to create beautiful pieces that would complete Roselyn's wedding outfit and any dresses she would wear as princess.

As Roselyn fawned over Elsa's exquisite work, Winnie wandered the shop, content to be left out of the proceedings. Since most of the pieces that Roselyn had commissioned from Elsa would be simple necklaces and earrings that could be used to complete most dresses in any color, Winnie was not needed for her eye for color and color compliments. For weeks now, Winnie had been at Roselyn's side, helping her friend design every aspect of her wedding trousseau and accompanying Roselyn to her etiquette lessons as she was taught how to be a proper wife to the prince.

For once, Wolf did not try to tease her as she wandered the store and examined the new pieces Elsa had on display. The man seemed nervous and distracted, staying quite close to the counter as his mother worked.

The town bell-tower chimed four, and Roselyn gave a start, looking up as Elsa began wrapping the jewelry into boxes. "Oh!" She exclaimed, looking to Winnie. "I have an etiquette lesson!"

Winnie sighed, but she followed Roselyn as her friend rushed for the door, gathering up the multiple small boxes of jewelry the young bride-to-be had forgotten in her haste.

As the two young women exited, Elsa eyed her only son. He would not look at her, and he seemed exceedingly nervous for a simple visit. The last time she had seen him this anxious, he had just broken his father's favorite pair of fire-tongs.

"What have you done?" Elsa demanded, propping her hands on her hips and fixing her son with a disapproving frown and a sharp look.

Wolf gave her a sidelong glance, looking sheepish. "There might be a chance that I'm ready to show Winnie I'm serious about her. She's grown more comfortable with me—nearly affectionate— in the past few weeks, and I was wondering…?"

Elsa clapped her hands, looking delighted. "Of course!" Beaming at her son, she disappeared behind the counter, rummaging through the cupboards beneath the glass display case, where she kept commissioned pieces and some of her favorite jewelry.

Returning with a square, flat box in her hand, Elsa slid it across the counter, grinning at her son like a delighted schoolgirl. "Is this what you were looking for?"

Wolf flipped the lid open, exposing a bed of midnight blue velvet and a flash of silver. He stared at the jewelry piece for a moment before shutting the box with a sharp _snap_. He leaned over and kissed his mother on the cheek, smiling in spite of himself.

"I thought I asked you not to make this?" Elsa smiled in response to his question, her gray eyes sparkling with mischief.

"When do I listen to my son?" she retorted. "I am your mother; _you_ should listen to _me_."

Tucking the box into his coat and chuckling once more, Wolf kissed her on the cheek once more. "I will remember next time, mother."

Elsa shook her head, grinning, pointing to the box he had just secreted. "With that piece, there should be no 'next time,' my son."

Wolfgang sobered as he looked up at her, his amber eyes solemn as he considered his serious undertaking. "I know. For her, I hope this is enough."

* * *

 **A/N: Reviews are always appreciated!**


	8. Invitation Only

**A/N: I apologize for the delay! Unfortunately, life has recently gotten in the way of this story. Enjoy!**

* * *

Chapter 8: Invitation Only 

"There it is." Gregory announced proudly, drawing his mount to a halt and twisting in the saddle to smile at his companions. "Reynard Manor."

It had been two long weeks since they had left Satuton, and Winnie wanted nothing more than to slide from the saddle into a bed. Every muscle ached, and there had been times on their journey when she had nearly slept astride her mare.

Across the fields of golden wheat, Reynard Manor's glittering windows looked out over the estate, the stone walls appearing whitewashed in the sun. Winnie didn't care if the interior of the manor was as opulent as the exterior; the only thing she wanted was a hot bath and a warm bed.

"Red." The concerned murmur came from her left, where Wolf sat on his own mount. She turned in the saddle to find his amber eyes gazing back at her, full of worry.

"I'm all right," she told him, picking up the slack reins and convincing her mare to walk. The chestnut mare laid her ears back for a moment, but did as she was asked. "I just need sleep."

"Greg!" Roselyn squealed, causing the prince to wince and turn to his betrothed resignedly. "This is a gorgeous manor! Is your cousin expecting us?"

"Yes," Gregory told her quietly, pushing his stallion into a trot and forcing Roselyn to do the same in order to keep up. "Rueben is expecting us."

Winnie frowned at the exchange and followed with Wolf at her side, the guards fanning out behind them. For the duration of their journey, Gregory had begun to speak to Roselyn less and less, as if he was beginning to regret his decision to marry her and have such a hasty wedding.

Roselyn had progressed in her lessons and was close to shedding her commoner origins for a lady's decorum, but there were times that Winnie had caught the prince watching his betrothed with an expression of despair on his face, as if he were trapped and longing to escape.

What could he possibly need to escape? Gregory loved Roselyn, didn't he?

As the riders clattered into the courtyard, Winnie glanced around. Servants immediately scurried forward to take their mounts, dressed in the duke's colors of blue and silver.

Tired from the ride, Winnie was unprepared for her mare to balk at being handled. The normally docile mare suddenly reared, and, with her reflexes dulled by exhaustion, Winifred was unable to keep her grip.

Slipping from the saddle, Winnie only heard Wolf's terrified cry of "Red!" and Roselyn's shriek of horror. The air was warm around her as she fell, but the pair of arms that caught her were warmer still.

Wondering how Wolf had managed to dismount his horse quickly enough to catch her, Winnie looked into her rescuer's face.

"Thank you, Wo—" Her gratitude died on her tongue, for Wolfgang Lothar was standing on the ground a few feet away, nearly bristling with anger and staring at the man that held Winnie in his arms with loathing in his eyes.

Winnie brushed her hair out of her face and blushed. "Thank you, sir."

Gently, the man set her upright, his arms still around her as he steadied her. "It is not every day that a beautiful woman falls into my arms." He told her in a quiet voice, a private tone meant for Winnie alone. A few feet away, Wolf growled in distaste as he caught the man's last words.

Winnie tilted her head back to look up into the man's blue eyes, blushing once again. "I didn't mean to fall on you," she told him quietly, uneasy and embarrassed. The man shook his head, his blonde hair glowing in the sunlight as he laid a hand on her arm.

"It was an accident," he told her gently, soothing away her embarrassment.

"Rueben!" Gregory bounded towards his cousin, a grin on his face, his blue eyes—copied into his cousin's face—shining with pleasure.

As Duke Rueben Reynard turned to joyfully greet his cousin, Wolf stalked over to Winnie's side, wrapping a possessive arm around her shoulders.

"Are you all right, Red?" For once, Winnie did not try to escape his loose embrace, but she could not keep her eyes from their host. He was taller than both the prince and Wolf, and the fact that he was dressed in a noble's finery did not detract from the fact that he had a well-toned body. His hair, the color of the wheat beyond the manor, shone in the sunlight, and his firm lips tugged up into a smile as he embraced his cousin.

"I'm sorry?" Winnie brought her gaze back to Wolf, knowing it wasn't polite to gawk. Wolf gazed at her reproachfully, ignoring the sting of jealousy that came with knowing she had been staring at their host as if he was the first man she had ever seen. Winnie lowered her head in a blush, feeling her face warm again at Wolf's expression, and Wolf softened, brushing her red hair out of her face where the wind had pushed it, allowing his fingers to linger on her cheek and remind her that he was there.

Wolf tried to ignore the disappointment he felt as Winnie did not react in any way to his touch. She continued to watch with intense interest as their host greeted Roselyn with a courtly bow and a murmured compliment, causing the prince's wife-to-be to blush.

"So cousin," Rueben asked jovially as they turned towards Wolf and Winnie, "do you have any claims on this angel that came to me from Fate?"

Gregory glanced towards Winnie and turned back to his cousin. "No, Lady Winifred speaks for herself."

Duke Rueben studied Winnie for a moment, and Wolf was alarmed to see his interested gaze morph into a lustful and greedy stare as his cousin's words left Winnie free for any man's claim. Wolf nearly growled and stepped in front of Winnie to shield her from the man's avaricious gaze, but resisted as he realized that Winnie would not appreciate his protective actions.

Winnie could feel Wolf bristling beside her, but she ignored him and tried not to blush as Rueben took her hand and kissed it, looking into her eyes. For a moment, there was a flash of something darker that made her uneasy, but it was soon gone.

"I am Duke Rueben Reynard," her host murmured, bowing over her hand. "My home is yours for as long as you choose to stay."

"We won't be here long," Wolf growled from beside her, and Winnie rolled her eyes at his possessive tone. Rueben barely spared the lean man a glance as he straightened, offering Winnie his arm.

"My lady, it would be my honor to show you my home," he told her smoothly, and Wolf watched in despair as Winnie blushed becomingly and took the proffered arm.

Following the small group inside the opulent manor, Wolf's annoyance melted into confusion, followed closely by suspicion. Something wasn't right.

* * *

"Oh, Winnie!" Roselyn gasped, twirling around Winnie's room, beaming and unable to keep her excitement to herself. "Isn't this manor beautiful?"

The small group of travelers had been in Reynard Manor for only a few hours, but Roselyn had already decided that the manor—although far from any large town—was already more exciting and interesting than the entire town of Satuton.

After taking a tour of manor, Winnie was inclined to agree with her friend. Although she had never really wanted to leave Satuton, and had only done so out of loyalty to Roselyn, the manor had a certain atmosphere, one that promised new and exciting things.

"Although," Roselyn halted her spinning abruptly and almost stumbled into a wooden chest. "it is disappointing that Gregory had to leave so soon."

Winnie, ensconced among the many pillows that adorned her large goose-down bed, nodded in sympathy to Roselyn's pout, inwardly doubtful, remembering the way the prince had seemed genuinely disappointed to leave his cousin after only spending a few hours in his company. However, Gregory seemed short with Roselyn, barely allowing her a brief embrace before leaving. The irritating and worrying thought that Gregory was regretting his decision to marry Roselyn grew stronger, but Winnie shoved it away and smiled at her friend.

"I'm sure he was just worried about the journey to Ibbot," Winnie told Roselyn, and while the other woman nodded, her blue eyes did not lose their shadowed cast.

Joining Winnie on the bed, Roselyn turned to her friend, serious for once. "Is the prince tiring of me?" She asked, her gaze averted from Winnie's as she fiddled with a stray thread in the coverlet, sounding like a child wishing for reassurance.

Ignoring the voice in the back of her head—that sounded strangely like her grandmother's chastising tones—that told her to tell the truth, Winnie wrapped an arm around Roselyn's shoulders and hugged her friend, giving her the reassurance she dearly craved.

"No, the prince is not tiring of you," she told Roselyn as forcefully as she could muster, pasting on a smile and hoping that her small lie would be enough to cheer up her friend. "Would he marry you if he didn't love you?"

"No," Roselyn responded slowly, her pout disappearing as she brushed her brown curls out of her face. She brightened visibly as she reassured herself, repeating Winnie's words. "He wouldn't marry me if he didn't love me."

"Exactly," Winnie told her, curling back into her pillows triumphantly and yawning. Every muscle in her legs and back ached, and all she really wanted was to sleep, but Roselyn had moved on to talking energetically about her wedding plans, and Winnie was obliged to listen.

"…the dress will be a creamy silk and…"

Roselyn's voice trailed off, and Winnie opened her eyes, wondering if her friend had caught her dozing while she was supposed to be listening intently. Instead of facing her friend's accusing and hurt stare when she sat up, Winnie found a docile maid standing just inside the door, looking as if she expected to be flogged for interrupting the conversation.

"Excuse me, Princess, Lady Winifred," she began nervously, "Lady Winifred, you're wanted in the ballroom."

"The ballroom?" Winnie repeated in bewilderment. "It's after dark! Who would need to see me in the ballroom?"

"Perhaps it's Duke Rueben," Roselyn suggested slyly, smirking at Winnie. "He certainly was paying attention to you this afternoon. Perhaps he wants to get to you know you better."

Winnie glared at her friend, not amused by Roselyn's insinuation or the way she phrased the last part of her statement, as if it was supposed to mean something more. She would not deny that the Duke was good-looking, but there was no reason for him to have any interest in her other than that of a guest.

"Who is it?" She demanded sharply of the maid, who quailed and dropped into a deep curtsey, causing Winnie to wince in guilt.

"He begs me to tell you that 'Wolf' is asking for you, Lady Winifred," the frightened maid told Winnie quietly, and Winnie groaned, flopping back against the pillows.

"What does he want now?" she muttered towards the ceiling, while Roselyn frowned in response, clearly puzzled by the question as well.

Resisting the urge to refuse—she knew that Wolf would have no qualms about coming into her room if she ignored him—Winnie swung her legs over the edge of the large bed, biting her lip at the pain that seared through her muscles as she stood.

Stalking stiffly towards the door, Winnie followed the maid down the many corridors of manor, grateful she had a guide. Finally, the maid paused before a door carved with golden peacocks, pushing open the doors to reveal a ballroom that Winnie would have thought was fairy-made.

Gold glittered on all the columns and arches, and pristine white marble—so pure it was nearly reflective—was inlaid with golden designs. Lamps set into the walls gave the entire room a soft glow, making it seem almost as if the ballroom were a portal into a fairy realm. The highest part of the room arched, and peering upward, Winnie found a starry dome. For a moment, she thought that the Duke had found a very clever artist to paint the stars as they appeared in the sky, but when she looked again, Winifred found that the dome was glass, and that she was peering into the expanse of the night sky.

In the middle of all this opulence, dressed in his normal attire of black, stood Wolfgang Lothar, looking uncharacteristically worried. At the booming echo that signaled the doors closing behind Winnie, he spun around, some of the concern disappearing to be replaced by relief.

"Red, there you are!" Frowning at his relieved greeting and trying to ignore the needling pain that had began to flash through her leg muscles, Winnie ran a hand over her face, pushing her hair out of the way and feeling too tired to deal with Wolf at this moment.

During the entire tour of the manor, Wolf had hung back, following Winnie and the Duke. Surprised by his lack of protective instinct—which she had grown accustomed to in the last few weeks that she had known him—Winnie had glanced behind several times to find Wolf wearing an uncomfortable expression. It surprised Winnie to find that she recognized his expression: it was an expression she had often seen with her father in the woods around their home when she would accompany him to find wood or new subjects to carve.

It was the look of an animal that knew when a trap was near.

"What do you want, Wolf?" Winnie questioned tiredly, giving into the demands of her body and sinking into a sitting position, breathing a sigh of relief as she finally sat on the marble floor.

When she looked up again, Wolf was on his knees in front of her, his gaze panicked and frightened. "Red, are you all right?"

Winnie gave him a puzzled stare and began rubbing the muscles in her legs, trying to relieve the ache. "I'm fine. I'm just not used to riding for so long, Wolf."

Wolf's amber eyes cleared, and he rocked by on his heels, looking embarrassed. "Don't do that, Red," he scolded her, "you worried me."

It was Winnie's turn to smirk. "What's wrong, Wolfie," she cooed, teasing him, "were you afraid I was hurt?"

Wolf stared at her for a moment, surprised that she would be have the courage to tease him instead of glaring and dismissing his concern. In response to her jibe, his amber eyes darkened into a familiar hue, and he smirked at her, leaning forward to cradle her face in his hands, his thumbs brushing against her jaw and his fingertips warm against her cheeks.

"I will always worry about you, Red," he told her in a husky tone, daring to rest his forehead gently against hers, watching as her brown eyes widened and her breathing hitched. Smirking at the blush that heated the skin under his hands, Wolf breathed in Winnie's unique scent, relieved to find that the scent of wood and roses had not left her.

Winnie felt frozen under Wolf's touch, just as she had been weeks ago in her grandmother's house. This time, though, there was a darker, more possessive purpose to his touch, as if he wished to tangibly mark her as his own. She could smell his musky, spicy scent as she took another shuddering breath, wondering why she suddenly was unable to breathe properly.

"Red…" Wolf did not touch her beyond the gentle brush of his fingertips, but when one hand moved to tangle itself in her loose red mane, Winnie unconsciously moved closer, the pain in her legs a distant memory. There was concern in his amber eyes, she saw at this close proximity, and in the back of her mind, where rationality still reigned, she questioned what could be causing him such consternation.

Every nerve in her body was stretched taut, her heart pounding, waiting for his next move, her breathing shallow, so sure that he would continue to move forward…

Winnie was unprepared for her release. One moment, Wolf's forehead was against her own, his breath mingling with her own, and the next, the cool air of the ballroom rushed to take his place as he released her, rocking back on his heels and breathing deeply, as if he had been breathless as well.

What had just happened? Winnie stared at the man across from her in confusion, and found him offering her an apologetic smile in return, looking even more embarrassed than before. Winnie opened her mouth and demand an explanation, but Wolf's hand on her cheek silenced the words before she was able to vocalize them.

"I can't help myself around you," he told her again, his embarrassment replaced with his customary smirk, and Winnie—relieved in a strange way that they were once again on familiar ground—glared at him and swatted his hand away, the pain in her legs once again returning, along with the rest of her senses.

"Why did you call me here, Wolf?" She asked sourly, stretching out a leg and beginning to massage the muscles once more as he settled himself at her side.

"Duke Rueben does not have honorable intentions." At his quiet accusation, Winnie twisted to look at him, the muscles in her back crying out in protest. Wolf sat calmly next to her, staring out across the empty ballroom, refusing to look at her as he accused their host of a ridiculous fault with the most rational tone Winnie had ever heard him use.

"What?" Winnie was sure that her exhaustion was causing Fate to play tricks on her hearing. "Wolf, we only met the man hours ago! How can you assume so much?"

"I trust my instincts, Red," Wolfgang told her calmly, but as she watched him, Winnie saw the trapped animal expression re-emerge, and she found herself unable to believe him. "Duke Rueben does not have honorable intentions towards you."

"Towards me?" Winnie gaped at Wolf, anger rising and coupling with her exhaustion. Wolf turned towards her, and she found his amber eyes gazing beseechingly into hers, begging her to believe him.

However, Winnie refused, too tired to listen to watch she considered nonsense. With a stifled groan, she got to her feet, glaring at Wolf as he did the same and refusing his help when he extended his hand towards her.

"Even though you're not comfortable in this manor, Gregory wouldn't have brought us here if his cousin was not to be trusted!" Winnie snapped, trying to ignore the way Wolf recoiled from her anger, his amber eyes flash with his own fury for a moment.

Winifred was not finished, however, and she did not give her companion time to form an argument. "I don't care if you think that Duke Rueben wants to marry me, Wolfgang Lothar!" Winnie flung the words as Wolf, giving a sharp bark of laughter at the way he blanched at the ludicrous idea that the Duke would want to marry her.

"Is that what you're afraid of, Wolfie?" Winnie taunted, exhaustion and frustration causing her to abandon all sense and rational, becoming cruel. "Are you afraid that the Duke will marry me, and you will no longer be able to spend time in my company?"

Her final words rang through the ballroom, and Winnie expected to feel some sort of completion and triumph as she met Wolf's gaze. Instead of hot anger burning through the man's amber gaze, Winnie only found pain that was deep enough to cause her own heart to ache.

Suddenly, Winnie realized how cruel she had been, how insensitive she had sounded, and her triumph turned sour, bile rising in her throat.

"Wolf, I'm sorry…" her quavering, tentative apology tapered off as Wolf merely gazed at her, his face blank, the anger dying in his amber eyes to be replaced by pain that grew in intensity until Winnie had to look away, her guilt making it impossible to hold his gaze.

Without a word, Wolfgang Lothar strode past Winifred Nimble, ignoring her weak protests and entreaties, wrenching one of the opulent doors open and slamming it shut behind him.

The _boom_ of the door made the ballroom seem more desolate than before, and Winnie sank to the floor, unable to move and paralyzed by the horror of what she had just done. She did not understand why she had said such things to Wolf; she had allowed her emotions and stresses of the day to overwhelm her, and she had destroyed whatever bond they had carefully forged over the last few weeks.

Winnie was unaware of the tears that ran down her face, dripping onto the marble floor, too consumed by the pain that wracked her body, so similar to the pain on the day she had lost her parents, but hotter and sharper, tearing her to the core.

Her sobs echoed in the empty ballroom, but there was no one to comfort her now, no one to come to her side when the pain became too great.

Winnie turned her teary gaze towards the ballroom doors and wished to Fate that they would reopen, that Wolf would return. She knew it was fruitless, so she climbed to her feet once again and retraced the steps back to her room, grateful as she slipped inside to find that Roselyn had departed for her own room. Winnie curled into the center of her bed, the tears coming fast in the privacy of her room, cursing her own stupidity, the pain in Wolf's eyes haunting her memory.

What had she done?

* * *

 **A/N: Reviews are always appreciated!**


	9. Accidental Promises

**A/N: Enjoy!**

* * *

Chapter 9: Accidental Promises 

"Winnie!" The rapid knocks on her door caused Winnie to turn from the mirror just in time to see Roselyn burst into her room, her blue eyes glowing with excitement. A frenzied maid rushed after the beaming princess, attempting to tame Roselyn's loose curls into a dignified hairstyle.

"Aren't you ready yet?" Roselyn demanded, ignoring her maid's efforts to frown reprovingly at Winnie.

Winnie stared down at her attire, frowned, and looked back up at Roselyn, puzzled. "I thought I was…" she told her friend, surveying the princess in amazement.

For her first ball as princess, Roselyn had chosen a dress in a dusky rose, the perfect compliment to her sable curls, blue eyes and creamy skin. Diamond pins held her upswept curls in place, and her maid murmured her satisfaction as the last of Roselyn's curls dusted her shoulders. Face paints completed her transformation, and Winnie wondered what Gregory would say if he saw his betrothed now. She certainly looked nothing like the woman she knew from the small town of Satuton.

In comparison, it had taken Roselyn three days to convince Winnie to wear a dress to their welcome ball. When Winnie had initially refused, citing that the ball was for Roselyn, in order that the nobles could meet their new princess, Roselyn had retorted that Winnie was her best friend, and as Roselyn's lady companion, had to be in attendance.

So, against her will, Winnie found herself in a floor-length forest-green dress, comfortable with the color only because it reminded her of the ever-trees of Parisa Forest. It had taken Roselyn all morning to persuade Winnie to allow one of the maids to touch her hair, and Winnie had allowed her waves to be tamed into loose curls, flowing down her back and falling down her shoulders.

Roselyn beamed approvingly at Winnie. "You look like a lady."

Winnie winced as the slippers she wore—dyed a deep green to match her dress—pinched her toes. "I still have to go?"

"Yes," Roselyn said firmly, darting forward to fasten dark emerald earrings to Winnie's ears before her friend could protest.

A knock at the door drew both women's gaze, and Roselyn brightened at Duke Rueben's greeting. "Ladies?"

Winnie grumbled under her breath as Roselyn pulled her towards the door, pushing away the traitorous hope that Wolf would be the one to fetch them.

Since their fight in the ballroom two weeks ago, Wolf had avoided Winnie, refusing to talk to her and causing dinner conversations to become strained. Since Wolf no longer tried to keep Winnie away, Duke Rueben smoothly stepped in, all too eager to spend time with the beautiful Lady Winifred. Although Winnie enjoyed the Duke's company at first, his attentions had recently become cloying, and she wished for another companion to spend time with, other than Roselyn, who was still unable to talk of much else besides her wedding for any period of time.

Roselyn swung open the door, smiling at the Duke as Winnie forced a smile of her own. "Lady Winifred, Princess Roselyn," Duke Rueben greeted them, his gaze lingering hungrily on Winnie, "you look radiant tonight."

Roselyn giggled at the comment, eagerly taking the Duke's arm, while Winnie nodded in response to his sentiment and resting her hand gingerly on his arm.

"Lady Winifred, I hope that you will save a dance for me?" The Duke's request was voiced softly, for her ears alone, and Winnie looked up into his hopeful visage, wishing she could refuse him. Unfortunately, he was her host, and she could not do so without appearing insensitive and rude.

"Of course," she told him, giving him a slight smile. Capturing her hand in his, Rueben lifted it to his lips, brushing her fingertips in a kiss.

"You honor me," Rueben told her. Resisting the sudden urge to snatch her hand away from him, Winnie merely nodded and swallowed nervously as the footmen opened the broad ballroom doors.

The sweet music of a waltz greeted them, but the conversation and music died as the Duke entered the room. Winnie stared in awe at the amount of nobles in the large room, and then remembered that she was supposed to act like a lady and dropped her gaze embarrassed.

"May I present," Reuben announced warmly, "Princess Roselyn of Loken and her companion, Lady Winifred of Satuton."

Warm applause met this announcement, and the musicians once again began to play. Duke Rueben offered Roselyn the first dance, and Winnie drifted off to the side as they proceeded to the center of the room, knowing that Roselyn would come and find her if she fled. Deciding that a large column would conceal her easily and make it impossible for any young noble stranger to ask her to dance, Winnie watched the ball from the shadows.

"Winnie." Wincing at being found before realizing that none of the nobles in the room knew her nickname, Winnie breathed a sigh of relief.

Turning, Winnie stopped short, unprepared for the sight that awaited her.

Dressed in a suit that was so dark blue it was nearly black, Wolf stared down at her, the smallest of smirks pulling at his lips, as if against his will. The gold trim of the suit brought a golden hue to his amber eyes, and Winnie caught her breath, surprised at his transformation. She had always thought of Wolf as good-looking, but he seemed like a dream, appearing before her now.

"Yes?" Wolf flinched at her curt tone, pain flashing through his blank gaze for a moment, and Winnie recoiled as well, silently berating herself.

However, Wolf merely took a deep breath and continued to speak to her. "Would you dance with me?"

Winnie stared at him in astonishment as he extended his hand. After two weeks, he appeared at the ball asking to dance? After not speaking and avoiding her as if she had been cursed by Fate, he wanted to come in contact with her again?

Just before Wolf could withdraw his hand, Winnie slid her small one into his larger grip, giving him the first pleased, true smile of the evening. "I would be delighted."

Silently, Wolf led her to the dance floor, not daring to speak until she was in his arms. Marveling at the shade of green that complimented her fiery hair and pale skin so well, Wolf flinched at the her scent. The scent of roses and wood had almost been obscured by the smell of perfumes and wheat. It was clear to Wolf that she had been spending time with Roselyn and the Duke, although the latter's scent disturbed him more than the former's.

"Wolf…" Winnie mustered the courage to speak, gazing up at the man that held her and leaning into his embrace, wondering at the comfort she felt to feel his arms wrapped around her again, the reassurance she felt just from breathing in his musky scent.

"Yes, Winnie?" Wolf's response was oddly stiff, and Winnie wondered at the absence of her oft-repeated nickname, but she was just relieved that he had responded and had not regretted his decision to ask her to dance.

"Wolf, I'm sorry," Winnie blurted out in a whisper, daring to glance at Wolf as she said it, unable to miss the way his face lost its reserved façade and he gazed down at her, a smile unfurling as his amber eyes glowed.

"I'm sorry for what I said," Winnie continued, almost stumbling over her words, rushing to finish her thoughts before he silenced her or refused to listen any longer. "I don't know what I was thinking. I need you. I need your friendship, I need to be with you."

"Winnie…" Wolf breathed, dropping his head to press his forehead against hers. The action echoed the same pose he had held the last night he had touched her, in the ballroom, and Winnie found herself inexplicably thirsting for more, wrapping her arms around his neck and twisting her fingers in his dark hair.

"I forgive you," he whispered against her lips, sounding relieved and more alive than Winnie had heard him in weeks. "Red," he whispered, his lips millimeters from hers, "I lo—"

"Winnie!"

Winnie's glare partnered with Wolf's growl as the drew apart caused Roselyn to make a surprised retreat, but she soon surged forward, grasping Winnie's arm, her blue eyes shining, her cheeks burning with color.

"Winnie, Duke Rueben wants us!" Roselyn babbled excitedly, tugging Winnie away from a frustrated Wolf who watched Winnie be pulled after Roselyn with longing.

"What is going on?" Winnie asked, tugging on Roselyn's hold on her hand, bewildered, her head still spinning from her dance with Wolf. What had almost happened? Had Wolf been about to…? No. Winnie shook her head. No. Wolf had forgiven her, and that was enough. She didn't need anything else from him, did she?

"Duke Rueben just asked me to find you!" Roselyn told Winnie over her shoulder, ignoring Winnie's attempt to convince her to relinquish her hand.

"There you are!" The Duke appeared before them, followed by two man servants, each bearing an engraved wooden box. At one flick of his hand, the musicians ceased their playing, and the nobles around them halted their dance, murmuring in confusion.

Striding confidently to the middle of the marble floor, the Duke announced to the bewildered crowd, "I have gifts to present to the guests!" Winnie took note of the fact that there were only two boxes, but when she opened her mouth to protest Wolf's exclusion, she was prevented by Roselyn propelling her forward.

Sweeping Roselyn a deep bow, Duke Rueben turned to the manservant on his left. "A wedding gift to our princess," he announced, flipping open the wooden lid and pulling out its contents.

The crowd murmured their approval as the Duke held up the diamond necklace for their inspection, the stones glittering in the lamplight like the stars that watched through the dome.

Roselyn blushed with pleasure as the Duke fastened the necklace around her throat, reaching up a hand to stroke the cool stones and murmur her quiet thanks.

"For the Lady Winifred," the Duke announced to the assembled crowd, "I have a very special gift." Turning to the other manservant, the Duke raised the lid, lifting the contents from their velvet bed reverently.

The crowd's approval turned into an excited buzzing as the Duke held up the second necklace. Instead of precious gems, this piece hung on a golden chain. The golden sunbird spread its wings towards the sky, reflecting the gold in arches and columns as it glinted in the lamplight.

The Duke turned to Lady Winifred, and the crowd hushed, the noise abruptly extinguished, as if everyone in the room were holding their breath.

"Lady Winifred," Rueben asked, his voice echoing in the expansive room, "Do you accept this gift?" His blue eyes locked on hers, and Winnie was unsettled by the hungry look he sported—as if this necklace was the one thing that would mark her as his.

As much as she wished to refuse, Winnie knew that she could not. It would be rude, and what was the harm in accepting such a beautiful necklace?

Winnie nodded, allowing the Duke to step forward and fasten the necklace around her throat. The sunbird was strangely warm as it rested on her chest, and Winnie looked up into the Duke's possessive gaze.

"You honor me," he told her in a rough whisper. Before Winnie could react, Rueben had pulled her into his arms and kissed her. Surprised, Winnie did nothing, and a moment later, the Duke released her, smirking triumphantly as the crowd's buzz became a cheer.

Inexplicably, Winnie found her gaze drawn to the outer edges of the crowd. Wolfgang Lothar stood there, his eyes full of the same pain she had seen two weeks ago, looking as if she had plunged a knife into his chest without warning. Winnie felt her chest contract with pain, the sunbird suddenly icy against her skin, and she watched hopelessly as Wolf turned and strode from the room.

Without a word to anyone and without reason, Winnie ran after him, plunging through the crowd and bunching her skirts up in order to run after Wolf.

Rueben watched Lady Winifred rush after Wolfgang, but he was not concerned. Turning to a bewildered Roselyn, he offered her his hand, signally the musicians to begin their music anew and ignoring the murmurs around him as he swept the princess into another dance.

"Wolf!" Winnie had kicked off her slippers just after she left the ballroom, and her bare feet slapped against the marble floor as she chased after Wolf, who was rapidly striding away from her. She was too far behind, for before she could reach him, Wolf strode into his room and shut the door.

Winnie reached the door just in time to hear the lock click.

"Wolf! What's wrong?" She cried, confused and wondering why he had looked at her as if she had undone all the healing her apology had done to their friendship.

For a long minute, she thought he was not going to answer her. Finally, through the thick wood of the door, she heard her answer in a muffled and rough whisper.

"Go away, Winifred."

The use of her full name stung more than she would care to admit, and Winnie recoiled from it, bewildered and truly afraid now. Wolf had never used her full name before, not even when they had first met! There was something truly wrong, and Winnie wondered if it had something to do with accepting the Duke's gift.

Wolf couldn't be jealous of a simple gift, could he?

"Wolf?" Winnie asked tentatively, praying to Fate she would get an actual answer this time.

"Go _away_!"

Flinching away from the door, Winnie was surprised to find that the pain and anger in Wolf's roared rejection had summoned tears to her eyes. Dashing them away in anger, Winnie glared at the door and stalked away.

Unable to return to the ball, she returned to her room and fell into bed, still in her gown, the sunbird necklace gleaming in the candlelight as she slept.

Winnie was unable to say what caused her to sit up in bed hours later, her skirts twisted around her and her gown wrinkled beyond repair. Listening into the silence that filled her room, Winnie heard what must have woken her, her heart twisting in pain at the sound.

Far beyond the fields of Reynard Manor, a lone wolf howled its pain to a sympathetic moon.

* * *

The next morning, Winnie wandered through the servants' kitchens, eager to stay away from both the Duke and Roselyn. Still sleepy, Winnie was unable to cope with an energetic Roselyn, who was all too eager to have Winnie assist her in more dress fittings. Duke Rueben had been more possessive than usual, and Winnie did not want anything to do with him that morning, convinced that something he had done had caused Wolf to turn on her.

"Rumpelstiltskin!"

Winnie jumped at the enraged cry, turning towards the wooden table at the center of the large kitchen. One of the many maids glared after a hound who bounded towards Winnie, his tail held triumphantly in the air, golden wheat in his mouth, gold paint dripping from his nose.

Stooping to pet the bronze hound, Winnie extracted the soggy wheat from his soft mouth, setting it on the table.

"Thank you, lady." The maid dropped a curtsy before swatting the hound on the muzzle. "Bad! No, Rumpelstiltskin!"

The hound whimpered and gazed imploringly up at the maid, wagging his tail apologetically. Giggling, the maid patted the hound. "I forgive you."

"Where did you get that name?" Winnie asked, gazing down at the hound.

The maid gave her another deep curtsy, a smile tugging at her lips as she considered the groveling Rumpelstiltskin. "He was named after my lord, milady."

Glad that Rueben's mother had not decided to name her son after his father, Winnie followed the smell of egg whites to the table, where a large basin of gold paint waited next to a stiff pile of wheat.

"This seems like a waste," Winnie observed, and next to her, the maid giggled.

"I might think so, milady, but I follow the Duke's orders."

"I agree with Lady Winifred," a familiar voice drawled at the other side of the table, and Winnie shivered at the sound. She looked up to see Wolf lazily drop onto the stool next to the pile of wheat, slanting the maid a charming smile.

"How are you, Lily?" The amber-eyed man asked, studiously ignoring Winnie and smirking as the maid giggled.

"Would you like help?" Wolf offered, picking up a few stray pieces of wheat that had fallen to the floor.

"Oh, no, sir!" Lily protested, hurrying forward, her green eyes wide as her blonde hair escaped her bun. "The Duke would not like it if I allowed his guest to do my chores!"

"What is all this for?" Winnie wondered after the maid, and Lily spun, puzzled and fixing her gaze on the sunbird necklace that Winnie wore.

"I beg your pardon, my lady, but these are decorations for your wedding."

Winnie sunk onto a vacant stool, staring at the young woman who averted her gaze.

"I must have heard you incorrectly," Winnie told her frostily. " _My_ wedding?"

"Yes, milady," Lily answered softly, still puzzled as to how the bride herself could not know she was getting married.

"And to whom," Winnie's voice was soft with incredulous anger, "am I getting married?"

"Duke Rueben Reynard." The answer came not from Lily, as Winnie had expected, but from Wolf, who ignored her curious stare and spoke to the pile of wood across the room. Winnie was stunned at his calm tone, and immediately realized that he was not surprised at the news because...

"You knew about this?" Winnie found herself whispering, hurt and anger and confusion welling up and causing her eyes to water. " _You knew_ and you said nothing?"

At the accusation in her voice, Wolf turned sharply to glare at her, but Winnie did not flinch from the anger and betrayal in his gaze, instead matching it with her own.

Winnie could see that he was hurt, but she couldn't understand how he felt betrayed. He had not warned her, and he did not seem concerned that she did not know about her own nuptials.

"Don't you care that I am being forced to marry someone against my will?" The red-headed woman seethed at Wolf, her face flushing in anger.

Wolfgang spared her the briefest glance in order to glare pointedly at the sunbird pendant that hung around her neck. "On the contrary," he spat at the pile of wood across the room, his amber eyes smoldering with a slow-burning anger, "you accepted his proposal last night with the acceptance of that necklace."

Lily looked between her master's two guests, speechless. The Lady Winifred sat on her stool, her face drained white as milk and looking as if she were about to faint, unable to speak. Wolfgang sat staring resolutely at the wood, his face set in grim and regretful lines.

Winnie clenched her fists on the table, feeling her fingernails bite into her palms, resisting the urge to yank the chain from her neck and melt it in the closest fire.

"I thought it was a gift." At Winnie's hopeless, helpless whisper, Wolf softened enough to glance at her blankly.

Although Winnie looked up when he glanced at her, her brown eyes hopeful, Wolf's cold and clipped words dashed whatever hopes had risen. "In some older families, there is an ancient tradition to use a pendant with the family's symbolic animal in place of an engagement ring. You accepted the Duke's suit last night when you accepted that necklace."

Winifred dropped her head, clenching the edge of the table as despair swamped her. Rising her head, she stared at Lily, who took a stumbling step back, unnerved by the hopelessness and soul-deep pain she saw in the lady's gaze.

"When is the wedding?"

"At the end of the month, milady," Lily answered, feeling it was a good idea to add a curtsey to her answer in order to appease the lady.

Winnie buried her head in her hands, but raised it quickly as she heard a stool scrape against the flagstones. She watched hopefully as Wolf stood, hoping that the man would come to her side, comfort her, tell her that she would not have to marry the Duke, but Wolfgang did not even glance at her.

Instead, Winnie watched with growing despair and anger as Wolf sauntered over to Lily. Winnie glared as the maid giggled at Wolf's smirk, blushing as he bowed over her hand.

"It was lovely to see you, Lily," he told her gallantly, brushing a stray lock out of her face, smiling at her blush.

Turning on his heel, he walked from the room, not even bothering to glance at Winnie once as he left.

With a groan that tapered into a desperate sob, Winnie dropped her head onto the table, ignoring the dull thump she made and the pain that seared through her forehead.

Deciding to tactfully ignore the sobbing woman at the other end of the table, Lily went back to her original task of dipping the stiff wheat into the gold paint, shooing Rumpelstiltskin away from her work with a sharp word.

Wolf leaned against the wall just outside the kitchen door, out of sight of both women. Winnie's quiet sobs caused the steady ache in his chest to gain strength, nearly robbing him of breath, but he steeled himself and refused to return to her side.

She had made her choice, and remembering the way she had allowed the Duke to kiss her the night before, Wolf snarled quietly and shook his head at his own folly. How had he ever thought she might love him? Perhaps she might have come to love him in Satuton, but now, he could not compete with a noble.

No, she had made her choice. Winnie had chosen the Duke, and he could only stay with her until the wedding. He had promised Abigail that he would watch over her, and on the day of the wedding, he would return to Satuton. Why should she remember him after she was married to the cousin of the prince? She would be related to the prince and Roselyn; clearly, that would make her happier than being married to an aspiring actor.

Ignoring the memories came to him of every moment he had held her, Wolf stalked back to his room. Entering, his gaze fell on the wooden box his mother had given him. With a growl, he snatched it up, holding it over the fire that blazed happily in the grate. He should destroy it. Winnie was marrying the Duke; why should he keep it? It held no purpose for him or her now.

Wolf could only hear his own labored breathing and the sound of his heartbeat filling the room as he pulled the wooden box towards himself, deciding against his better judgment to keep it. His mother had made it, and while he did not relish the idea of going to Elsa and telling her of his failure, he knew that she should keep the piece for someone else.

Stuffing the box into the bottom of his bags, Wolf sank down into a chair, running a shaking hand over his face.

Winnie was marrying the Duke at the end of the month. The suspicion he had carried into the manor had slipped from hurt to anger, and now, Wolf felt despair beginning to grip him.

What could he do?


	10. Reconsidered Regrets

**A/N: Enjoy!**

* * *

Chapter 10: Reconsidered Regrets 

The grounds of Reynard Manor abounded with places to hide, but Winnie had yet to discover them all.

But that was not for lack of trying.

Winnie's attempts to keep the cloying Duke Rueben away had not gone unnoticed, but the Duke let her escape, amused at the idea that his blushing bride-to-be thought she could avoid him on his own lands, and deciding to graciously ignore what appeared to be maidenly pre-wedding nerves. The Duke spent his days entertaining his cousin's intended while Winnie used every excuse she knew to keep away from him.

If Winnie's absences did not go unnoticed by her betrothed, Wolf's did not go unnoticed by Winnie. Since he had coldly abandoned her in the kitchens a few days ago, Winnie had not seen him, which worried her more than she cared to admit.

Winnie was pulled from her concerns by the arrival of a black-and-white hunting spaniel, no more than a puppy. The young animal's ears flopped as it bounded towards her, and Winnie knelt down, laughing in spite of herself at the spaniel's excitement s the puppy covered her face with its warm tongue.

"Who do you belong to, boy?" She crooned to the pup, which wriggled with joy at her ministrations and continued to bathe her face.

"To our generous host," A familiar voice drawled behind Winnie in answer, causing the young woman to attempt a spin while on her knees and tumble onto the grass, the puppy yelping in surprise as it was dumped on the ground.

"Wolf?" Winnie wondered, staring up at the man who stood over her. Wolf glanced at her passively before lowering himself to the lush grass beside her. Winnie could not restrain hope from fluttering in her chest, waiting for his assistance in regaining her balance.

Her hopes were dashed as Wolf opened his arms to accept the enthusiastic attentions of the spaniel pup.

Trying to ignore her disappointment, Winnie pushed herself into an upright position, tucking her legs underneath her body. Running a hand over the spaniel's curly, splotched coat, she repeated, "Our host?"

Wolf's amber eyes were cool as he turned to look at her, and after a moment, he turned back to placating the excited bundle of fur in his lap.

"Our host has given me his permission to frequent his stables, mews, kennels, and extensive grounds." Wolf lifted his head to gaze at the large manor to their left, his cold and clipped words giving way to an amused tone. "Our host has also shown me that the one thing I am not allowed to be in proximity to is you." Wolf gazed past Winnie with a sardonic smile as he considered the manor, sounding entertained by the idea that the Duke considered him to be a threat.

Before Winnie could respond, a low whistle sounded nearby, and both Wolf and the spaniel looked up.

"Tom is looking for you, Lakelon," Wolf told the canine in his lap, standing up and placing the pup on its feet.

Although Winnie had come here in order to escape Duke Rueben, she did not want to be alone. The grounds stretched out around her, the wind the only thing to be heard. Winifred had been surrounded by people in the manor, but she missed Wolf's company.

"Wolf?" She questioned the man next to her, peering up into his face.

Wolf returned her gaze, but the wind blowing his hair into his face shielded his expression.

"Wolf," Winnie blurted out the question that had plagued her for days, desperate for his continued presence, "can you still mimic?"

Wolf did not respond immediately, choosing instead to turn to the impatient animal at his feet.

"Lakelon, go home." The spaniel, clearly delighted to have an order he could follow, bounded away through the grass, tail waving madly.

Wolfgang sank down beside Winnie, fixing her with a strange look, as he couldn't understand her question or fathom the reason she had asked.

"What did you say?"

The gentleness of his tone emboldened the young woman, and she turned towards him, knotting her hands in her lap. She looked up at him, brown eyes wide. "Could you mimic my mother?"

Wolf's amber eyes widened in response, disbelieving. Winnie knew he was remembering the last time he had imitated her parents, and her resulting fury.

"Why, Red?" He asked softly, laying his hand on hers and attempting to peer into her face, thwarted when she turned away, a blush coloring her pale skin.

The gentle touch and return of her missed nickname gave Winnie enough courage to finally meet his gaze, but it could not halt the tears that arose at the memory of Jill Nimble.

"My mother would know what to do," Winnie murmured desperately, blinking back stinging tears. "I miss her voice."

Somehow, Winnie found herself in the warm circle of Wolf's arms, her fists curled into the smooth fabric of his shirt as she fought to keep the tears at bay.

Wolf lifted his hand to wipe away the beginnings of Winnie's tears, brushing her fiery hair back in the process.

"Is this the right choice, Red?" He peered into her face, unable to refuse her when Winnie tipped her face to his, her brown eyes shadowed with pain and longing. Perhaps he should refuse her, for he knew that any prolonged contact between them would only make the separation more painful when she married the Duke in few weeks.

Winnie tucked her head under Wolf's chin as she nodded in response to his question, listening to the _thump_ of his heartbeat. "Please, Wolf." She was going to be married in a few weeks to a man she didn't love, and Winnie needed her mother now, even if it was nothing more than an echo.

Winnie felt Wolf sigh, his chest rising and falling underneath her, before clearing his throat twice. He bowed his head, his chin resting gently on the crown of her head as his black hair swung forward to brush against her temples.

For a moment, the only sound to be heard was the wind through the grass, and then Jill Nimble's soft alto could be heard rising gently to the breeze.

Winnie choked back a surprised cry, but she could not suppress the sobs that wracked her curled frame. She had not expected Wolf to use her mother's singing voice to soothe her. Although the voice above her was a little deeper than she remembered, it was undoubtedly the tones of her mother.

Wolf halted his song the second he felt Winnie begin to cry, the warm moisture of her tears seeping into his shirt. He tightened his grip, knowing he should have followed his first instinct and refused her.

Winnie's shuddering slowed as she realized he had stopped singing the childhood lullaby she knew so well.

"Wolf?"

"Do you want this?" Wolfgang was not speaking of his mimicry as he glared towards the manor, but Winnie misunderstood.

"Please."

Wolf sighed and began again, running his fingers through Winnie's hair, only allowing the song to taper off when he realized that she had fallen into an exhausted sleep in his arms.

Setting her onto the cool grass, he hummed in her mother's voice until she settled. Slowly getting to his feet, Wolfgang started down at Winnie. Longing filled his amber gaze, but it soon was replaced by the disinterested stare he had used before.

As Wolf walked away, Winifred was only aware of a sense of bereavement in her dreams, as if she had lost something important.

* * *

"Your Highness?"

The words felt foreign on Millie's tongue, but she masked her discomfort as she stepped into the library. The liveried servants closed the doors behind her, leaving her alone with the errant heir to the throne.

"Don't call me that." Gregory's sullen snarl summoned a twisted smile to Millicent's face, and she swept him a sarcastic curtsy.

"What would you prefer to be called?" She asked bitterly, doing her best to ignore the way he slumped before the fire, as if her retort had truly stung.

Suddenly, he was on his feet and spinning to face her, his blue eyes as feverish and desperate as they had been on the last night she had seen him, three weeks ago. Gregory had returned to Ibbot over a week ago, but he had expressed no desire to see Millie, too caught up in discussing private matters with his parents and spending time in council with his advisers. Millie, so used to being privy to the events in Gregory's life, felt as if a stranger stood before her, instead of the man she loved and trusted.

"I made a mistake," Gregory told her in a hoarse whisper, striding across the room to wrap her into an unexpected embrace.

Unprepared for the feel of his arms around her, Millie found herself leaning into his chest for a moment before regaining her senses and backing away, shaking her head.

"Greg…"

"I made a mistake," Gregory repeated, pleading now, the flames casting shadows on his face, causing his blue eyes to glow with a feverish desperation.

While part of Millie was relieved to hear Gregory's words, the emotion threatening to overwhelm her was anger.

Drawing herself up, she hissed, "You decide _now_ that you have made a mistake? Does this mean that you are not longer promised to Miss Lanton?"

Gregory recoiled at the fury in her voice, but he did not return to his seat before the fire. "Millie…"

"Are you still betrothed?" Millie demanded, backing away when Gregory reached towards her, hoping to pacify her and cool her fury long enough to convince the noble woman to listen to reason.

"Yes." Millicent flinched away from Greg's calm statement, until she realized that she had backed herself against the library doors, and that Gregory was still advancing.

"I am still betrothed," Gregory told her heatedly, his sharp gaze never leaving hers. "If I could go back on my word, I would." Millie shivered as he threaded his fingers through hers, using both hands to press hers against the door, holding her immobile.

"I made a mistake," Gregory repeated for the third time, leaning towards Millie until he could discern the pale flecks in her green eyes. Her breathing grew shallow as he closed the distance between them, but she made no move that signaled her discomfort.

Millie barely had time to breathe a word of protest before his lips were on hers. Thirteen years of repressed longing and hope pushed aside all rational and clear thinking as she wrested her hands from his and wrapped them around his neck. His lips were warm against hers, and although Millie knew that what she was doing was wrong, she could not pull herself away.

When they finally parted for the necessity of oxygen, Millie clung to the prince as he buried his head in her shoulder, his body shaking with exhaustion and frayed nerves. Millie found she was trembling as well, unsure of what had just transpired between them, her mind still hazy. Brushing his lips against her cheek, Gregory's voice was the only thing she heard in the silence of the library, murmuring her name over and over like a blessed prayer.

"You are still betrothed." Millie's quiet statement broke the spell that had held the library in silence, and Gregory lifted his head, his blue eyes once again shadowed as reality returned to them.

"I would marry you if I could," he told her, cradling her face in his hands and allowing her to see the desperate sincerity in his gaze. Millie leaned into his touch before she realized what she was doing, but quickly broke away after a moment, averting her gaze and turning away from him, pulling his hands from her face.

"You are not able to," she corrected him as she moved past him, trying to clear her head and finding herself unable to do so when he was near.

"I gave my word," Gregory told her, following her across the room as she paused near the mantel, staring into the flames.

"I know," Millie told him stiffly, refusing to look at him as he brushed his fingertips along her jaw, attempting to coax her face towards him.

"Millie," the prince whispered, his gaze never wavering, "I know I have made a mistake. Miss Lanton is not suited for the role I have given her, but she seems unaware of it. I fell in love with her for her beauty-" Millicent flinched at the phrase, and Gregory hurried on, hoping to soothe her, "but she does not have the temperament of the woman who could be both my wife and a consort that could assist me in ruling my kingdom."

Lady Millicent was silent for several minutes, and Gregory waited to see if she would forgive him and believe his innocence. Finally, she turned to him, her green eyes given a harsher edge in the light of the fire.

"What if Miss Lanton was shown as incapable?"

Gregory frowned at Millie's question, his brows furrowing in confusion. "If she was shown as being incapable for her role as princess, she would be asked to step down, I would…" he trailed into silence as he understood Millicent's point, and he looked up at her in hopeful astonishment.

"I would have to choose another to be my wife," he whispered, and his words echoed in the silence of the library—a hopeful promise.

Millie's slow smile mirrored that hope, but the steely glint in her green eyes promised more.

* * *

Winnie pushed the remains of her meal around her plate with her fork, her appetite gone. After waking to find herself in a deserted field with no Wolf nearby, she had dejectedly returned to the manor just in time to be subjected to dress fittings with Roselyn. As Roselyn's lady companion, Winnie was expected to wear a dress at her friend's wedding, but that did not mean that such fittings were met with any enthusiasm.

Across from her, Roselyn sat on Rueben's right, happily chattering to their host about her upcoming nuptials—which seemed to be all she could speak of these days.

Roselyn abruptly halted her flow of speech, turning to Winnie with a delighted gasp. "Winnie! I almost forgot! Rueben has something to tell you!"

Winnie momentarily wondered at the sudden departure of the Duke's title, but was distracted when Rueben turned to her and took her hand with a smile. Winnie tolerated the touch because she knew she must, but when she looked into the man's blue eyes, she could not muster any feelings akin to love. The man was handsome, she could not deny that, but she did not love him. Gritting her teeth, Winnie decided that she must call off the wedding.

"Your Grace," she told the Duke respectfully, "I have something to tell you as well."

Sparing a glance to her left, Winnie could feel Wolf watching her, palpable surprise radiating from his gaze.

"Princess Roselyn has brought it to my attention, my lady," Rueben told Winnie, brushing his thumb against her palm, "that her wedding to my cousin has been arranged to take place at the end of the month. She begged me to change the date of our wedding, in order that you could be at her wedding. When I was at a loss to change the date, she graciously gave me one, a date I hope you will agree to."

Winnie found the Duke's expression had become smug, and she felt her stomach drop, dreading filling the pit where it had been. "When is the wedding?" She asked weakly, feeling Wolf stiffen next to her and knowing that although she should look enthusiastic, she couldn't even muster a smile, terrified of the answer.

It was Roselyn who answered, looking delighted that her friend could now attend both weddings without feeling pressured. "You're getting married in three days! Isn't that exciting? There's so much to do!"

Winnie could feel the blood drain from her face, and she distantly heard a growl rumble from Wolf's throat. Numb, she looked from Roselyn, who was beaming at her, babbling happily about wedding plans and how Winnie would need her help, to the Duke, who was looking at her with loving concern, the greed in his blue eyes barely concealed.

"Now, my dear," he said gently, "we must alert your family. Surely your parents will want to see their daughter married. We should send them an invitation."

His comment, clearly well-meant, summoned immediate silence to the table. Roselyn froze, her enthusiastic chatter trailing off as she glanced concernedly towards Winnie.

For her part, Winnie dropped her gaze to the lace tablecloth, focusing on the pattern to keep the tears from spilling, biting her lip. She could not look at any of the others at the table, and she closed her eyes, her parents' beloved faces flashing through her memory.

What would they say to this?

" _Enough_." The low snarl caught the others' attention, and they all stared as Wolf shoved his chair back and rose, his amber eyes narrowed, looking livid.

"What's wrong?" The Duke wondered, looking bemused.

Wolf glared at the other man, placing a hand on Winnie's shoulder. "I'm sorry, Red," he told her quietly. "I told your grandmother that I would look after you, but I cannot let this _farce_ of a wedding take place."

"She is engaged to me," the Duke told Wolf acidly, his blue eyes narrowed as well, a clear challenge in his gaze. "She gave me her word."

"If you know nothing of your betrothed," Wolf spat, "you do not deserve to marry her."

"You do?" Rueben retorted, standing as well. Winnie glanced between the two; while Wolf's slighter and leaner frame concealed wiry strength, the Duke was bigger and could easily overpower him.

For a moment, Winnie thought Wolf was going to strike the prince's cousin. Instead, his entire body relaxed, and he sighed. He glanced down, and Winnie met his gaze. For the first time in several days, his amber eyes softened, and he gave her a small, sad smile.

His next words robbed her of breath and silenced her tongue.

"I love her."

Silence followed his declaration, and then the Duke began to laugh, a mocking tone that told all he found Wolf's admission to be an amusing one.

"What does it matter?" He mocked Wolf, when the commoner lifted his chin and refused to answer. "Your feelings mean nothing to her; she chose me."

"I have reason to believe that she cares for me." Wolf told their host softly, his gave never leaving Winnie. Winnie opened her mouth to respond, sharing an incredulous glance with Roselyn, but Rueben's voice drowned out what she might have said.

"Perhaps you do," the Duke snorted, "but it makes no difference to me. I am willing to wager the Lady Winifred and my marriage against your _feelings_."

"What are the terms?" Wolf asked calmly, while Winnie gripped the edge of the table, her mind whirling, feeling as if her world had turned itself inside out.

Duke Rueben looked confident as he settled back into his chair, claiming Winnie's hand possessively and tightening his grip as she attempted to extract her hand. "I have a family name, given to me at birth," he told Wolf, his blue eyes gleaming in triumph, "no one knows my birth name, and I took the name Rueben as my own instead. You have until the moment I make Lady Winifred my wife to bring me the answer."

Wolf remained standing, his lips pulled back in a snarl of distaste. "Is that all?"

Duke Rueben sneered in return, his grip on Winnie's hand painfully tight. "If you come to me with the correct name, Lady Winifred is yours and you may depart from my castle unharmed. If you fail…" the man's gaze grew smug, "Lady Winifred becomes my wife and you are banished from her side. If I win and you do not comply, I will have you killed."

Wolfgang's gaze remained steady as the other man spoke, and he nodded when the Duke finished. "May Fate bless the winner," he said softly, giving Winnie a soft, sad smile before turning and striding from the dining room.

Winnie shared an incredulous look with Roselyn, who looked just as stunned as she felt before tearing her hand from Rueben's grasp and following Wolf out of the room, ignoring Roselyn's cries for explanation and the Duke calling her name.

"Wolf!" The young woman hurried down the hallway after him, noticing that this time, he slowed at the sound of her cry, as if he had been waiting.

"Why?" Winnie demanded, reaching out and forcibly turning Wolf around, gripping his arm tightly.

For a moment, Wolf's familiar attitude returned and he smirked down at her, his amber eyes regaining some of their light. "'Why' what, Red?"

"Stop it," Winnie snarled, glaring at the infuriating man, desperate for an explanation for his declaration. This time, she was the one to touch him, reaching up to cradle his face in her hands and tug it down to her level.

Wolf bent his head willingly, his gaze flashing with open surprise at her boldness. Seeing that she did not immediately relinquish her hold on him, he wrapped his arms around her, bringing their bodies flush.

Winnie could feel the blush heating her cheeks as she inhaled his familiar spicy scent, but she ignored her body's reaction to his proximity and looked up into his amber eyes, wanting honest answers.

"Why did you say that?" She wondered in a whisper, letting her fingers explore the soft stubble that she found on his cheeks and ignoring the way his eyes flashed with heat at her innocent actions.

"It needed to be said." Wolf's answer was vague, but he did not look away from her. There was a desperate need hidden in his expression, as if he was terrified of losing her but did not want to voice his fear or let it show in his face.

"Are you going to free me from this marriage?" Winnie asked him, hopeful and tightening her grip, knowing he was the one thing that would keep her from a marriage she did not want.

The lamplight lent miniature flames to Wolf's amber irises, and when he smirked at her, Winnie found herself shivering instead of glaring, the small flames warming her entire body while she trembled with nerves.

"If you give me something to look forward to," he teased gently, brushing her red hair out her face, fascinated by the way her brown eyes took on a golden glint when exposed to lamplight.

Wolf expected Winifred to pull away, glare, and reprimand him with a sharp word.

He did not expect a pair of lips to meet his own, or for the sweet smell of wild roses to eclipse the other scent she always carried with her, filling his senses with only her, of her temper, her red hair, flaming in the sunlight, of her wide brown eyes, of her smile.

Easily discarding his initial shock, Wolf wrapped his arms around Winnie, sending a silent prayer of thanks to Fate as he cradled her against him, tangling his fingers in her hair and drawing her soft body closer.

Winnie rooted her fingers in Wolf's dark hair, tugging on his neck and drawing him deeper into the kiss. Wolf gladly accepted her invitation and deepened their embrace, teasing his tongue across her lips. As Winnie responded, Wolf groaned, the sound resonating in his chest.

Breathless, Winnie pulled away, burying her head in Wolf's chest. Wrapping her arms loosely around his neck, she curled into his embrace, surprised at the way her breath came in pants and how Wolf breathed shallowly as well, his chest rising and falling beneath her ear, his heart thundering.

Wolf sifted his fingers through her hair, the other arm wrapped tightly around Winnie. "Well, Red," he whispered, his lips against her hair, "that was certainly something to look forward to."

Sheltered in his arms, Winnie gave a laugh that tapered into a choked sob, and she felt Wolf tighten his grip in response, continuing to run his finger through her red locks, soothing her.

"Three days." Winnie told him, straightening and pulling away slowly. Wolf seemed reluctant to release her, but he dropped his arms, his gaze never leaving hers.

"Three days." He repeated solemnly, knowing that was all the time he had. Brushing his fingers against her cheek, he smirked at her blush, masking the uncertainty he felt.

Unable to resist his soft touch, Winnie found herself being drawn back into his arms, mesmerized by the heat in his amber eyes. Once again, they found them entangled in an embrace, less sudden than the first, more desperate than the last. They clung together, and this time, it was Wolf who pulled away with a strangled groan, feeling his control slipping the longer he held her.

"I'll be back." Winnie heard Wolf's promise, and she nodded, keeping her chin up resolutely so he wouldn't see the tears that were gathering.

Wolf cradled her face in his hands for a moment, his amber eyes roving her face, as if he was once again memorizing every feature, every line and every shadow. Abruptly, he wheeled around and walked away.

Although Winnie wanted to follow him, she turned away as well, winding her way towards her room slowly. Her body was still flushed with heat, but worry was beginning to eradicate the pleasure she had previously felt.

Turning back, she gazed down the hallway, hoping for one final reassurance, but Wolf had already vanished.

* * *

 **A/N: Reviews are always appreciated!**


	11. Preparations

**A/N: Well, we've reached the halfway point! Thank you to everyone who has followed this story and reviewed. Enjoy!**

* * *

Chapter 11: Preparations

"Are these for your wedding or mine?"

Roselyn giggled in response to the question, her lap full of white roses. Using a small pair of shears she had convinced one of the gardeners to allow her, she carefully removed the thorns from the flowers, placing them gingerly in the basket next to her. She barely glanced at Winnie as she answered.

"My wedding is not for several weeks, Winnie! Of course they are decorations for yours!"

Winnie pushed her hair out of her face, stepping forward to cut another rose from the bush and nearly falling, stumbling over her skirts. Growling in annoyance, Winnie bunched her skirts in her fists and knelt on the ground, deciding to cut the roses from below and keep herself from being impaled on thorns.

Roselyn rolled her eyes in response to her friend's silence, daintily setting the shears to the side and inhaling the scent of a freshly cut rose. "Winnie," she scolded, "could you please try to act excited about your wedding? Rueben is a good man!"

Winnie stopped snipping for a moment and looked down at herself, unsure of how to answer her friend's chastisement. Although her hair was pulled back into its customary braid to keep her hair out of her face, it was the only thing she felt reflected herself. She was still unused to being expected to wear dresses, and the sunbird necklace swung against her neck as she moved, reminding her of the ignorant promise she had made. She felt unlike the Winifred Nimble that had grown up in the woods of Parisa Forest, and she knew that if she married the duke, she would never return to her old life.

Instead of answering a question she had no answer for, Winnie posed one of her own. "Roselyn, how are you on familiar terms with the duke?"

As Winnie did not turn to look at her, resuming her task of cutting roses, Roselyn was safe to blush, a small smile stealing across her face. A moment later, it was replaced by reproach. "I have spent time with our host because _you_ refuse to." She told her friend pointedly, watching the way Winnie's shoulders stiffened, knowing her accusation had rung true. "He is not an evil man."

Roselyn's voice became gentle and pleading as she abandoned the roses in her lap to stare beseechingly at Winnie's back. "Rueben loves you, Winnie. He may not have known you for long, but he loves you. He wishes to marry you."

Winnie sighed, her fingers wrinkling the fabric of her skirts as she curled her fists. "I do not love him," she replied, her voice heavy with an emptiness Roselyn couldn't understand.

"He is a nobleman, and Gregory's cousin!" Roselyn protested. "Any woman would be comfortable married to him, and you would never want for anything."

At this, Winnie finally turned, sweeping her skirts through the grass carelessly. Roselyn winced at the movement, hoping that there were no grass stains, but Winnie did not notice. Roselyn looked up into her friend's brown eyes, and the hopelessness she saw there confused her. Why did Winnie not wish to marry the duke? Rueben was a handsome man, and he was rich. What more could the daughter of candlestick-makers want?

"This is a gift from Fate," Roselyn told Winnie, her blue eyes earnest. Her brown curls tumbled around her shoulders as she shook her head, unable to understand why Winnie was so resistant.

"I do not love him," Winnie repeated lowly, toying with the lone white rose in her lap. "I cannot marry a man I do not love."

"Who do you love?" Roselyn asked, curious. "If you do not love the duke, perhaps there is someone else?"

Winnie did not raise her gaze from the rose she twisted through her fingers, but Roselyn could not miss the blush that rose to her cheeks. It was answer enough, and the princess-to-be gasped, wondering how she could have missed the obvious signs.

"Wolf?" She questioned quietly, shocked and unsure of how she had missed it before.

"No!" Winnie replied vehemently, her cheeks gaining more color.

"Are you sure?" Roselyn asked, tilting her head to the side curiously. "I thought you two were sharing a bed, but I didn't realize love had anything to do with it."

Winnie gaped at Roselyn, unable to muster a response. Roselyn had thought that Winnie was using Wolf as nothing more than a bed-mate? Sure that her cheeks could not get any redder, she finally sputtered an answer.

"We never slept together," she insisted, while Roselyn looked doubtful.

"If you do not love Wolf," she asked, "why do you not want to marry the duke?"

"For Fate's sake," Winnie exclaimed, glaring in frustration, "I told you, _I do not love Rueben_!"

"Perhaps you could learn to, in time."

The cool voice did not come from Roselyn, and Winnie's face drained of its heated color as the speaker appeared from around one of the hedges, clearly coming from an early morning walk in his own gardens.

"Winifred, Roselyn." Duke Rueben greeted them both with a short bow, and Winnie dropped her gaze to her lap, embarrassed that the duke had overheard her outburst.

Glancing between the two, Roselyn quickly gathered up her basket of roses and stood, her skirts rustling. "I believe I need to get these roses to the maids and help them prepare them."

Ignoring Winnie's pleading gaze that implored her to stay, Roselyn moved past the duke, pausing when his hand came to rest against her cheek.

"The smell of roses suits you," he told her lowly, a small smile touching his lips as she blushed. Rueben admired the sheen the sunlight gave her sable curls as he carefully pulled stray rose petals from her hair. She tipped her face towards him, her blue eyes glowing as she gave him a sweet smile of thanks. Allowing his fingers to linger in her hair and on her cheek for a moment longer, Rueben reminded himself that she belonged to his cousin.

Dropping his hands and allowing her to pass him, Rueben turned his gaze towards his bride-to-be, who would rather watch her friend's retreat than meet his gaze.

Settling into Roselyn's vacated place, Rueben inhaled the scent of roses and turned his attention to Lady Winifred. The woman had dropped her gaze to her lap, her fingers playing with the stem of a white rose in a display of nervousness.

"You'll learn to love me when we're married," Rueben told her reassuringly, and Winnie finally looked at him. The unhappiness in her gaze did nothing to sway him; even if she did not love him, she would change her mind soon after the marriage was preformed. She would give him heirs, and after he had sons that would ensure his continued lineage, he could continue his practice of taking mistresses. Winifred would be free to do what she liked.

The smile Winifred gave him was clearly forced, and she gazed towards the manor as if she longed to escape his presence.

The next words from his mouth surprised her. "Roselyn informed me of your parents' deaths. I apologize if I offended you."

Winnie stared at him, mouth agape, unsure of what to say. His blue eyes held complete sincerity, and the earnestness in his expression told her that he was not trying to gain her affection by acting sympathetic.

"You didn't know," Winnie told him finally, grief aching anew as she thought of her parents. When the duke continued to watch her as if expecting something more, she sighed. "I forgive you."

"Good." Rueben leaned forward and captured her hand in his, bringing it to his lips. "I look forward to our wedding day, my dear."

The only answer he received was silence, and Winnie could not even force a smile in response to his words, her brown eyes becoming shadowed.

Seeing that he would get no further answer, Rueben got to his feet and strode away, leaving a relieved Winnie in his wake. It did not bother him that she could not muster enthusiasm for their wedding, but Rueben had waited for far too long for an opportunity like this for one woman's unhappiness to ruin his plans.

Rueben had tried for years to find a noblewoman with the connections that this commoner did. As the prince's cousin, he was next in line for the throne. As such, he had to be careful about his choice of wife, knowing that she had to have many connections to the royal family and be adept at currying favor with the monarchs. Many noblewomen at court had wanted to marry him, and he had taken many as lovers, but none of them had the connections he desired.

Then, one day, he had found the perfect woman riding into his courtyard. He had expected his cousin's arrival and the arrival of his cousin's betrothed, but he had not been expecting Fate to gift him with the woman he needed.

At first sight, he had been enchanted with Roselyn's beauty, and had immediately desired her, but quelled it when he discovered that she was Gregory's betrothed. While Winifred was attractive in her own way, Rueben found her of little interest, until he took them on a tour of the manor.

Watching his guests interact, Rueben began to realize that it might be beneficial if he could keep Winifred's attention. She was Roselyn's lady companion, and clearly the two women were close. Gregory seemed more courteous to Winifred than Roselyn, but Rueben had heard the court gossip—he knew the tale of Gregory's displeasure at being forced into marrying Roselyn Lanton.

Rueben had decided by the end of the tour that he would marry Winifred. As a friend to both the future king and queen, she had the very connections he had been searching for, and a woman with the queen's ear was just what he had been praying for. Although she seemed to be more attached to Wolfgang than him, Rueben knew his fate was sealed when Winifred unwittingly accepted his suit at the ball, unknowingly agreeing to his silent marriage proposal.

Rueben chuckled to himself. His plans were proceeding as he had hoped, even with Wolfgang on the hunt for his true name. Even that did not worry him—he had seen enough jealous husbands and fiancés to know that Wolf loved Winifred, but all the desperate love in the world could not help Wolfgang discover what he sought.

Striding through the gardens, Rueben smiled as he heard Roselyn's musical tones ahead, answered by the quieter responses of one of his servants. When he returned to the manor, he would seek her out. Roselyn would be grateful for his assistance with the roses, and it would please her to hear a expertly crafted lie of how Winnie had become enthusiastic about the impending nuptials after they had spoken.

* * *

Millie slipped quietly out of Gregory's room, unable to keep a pleased smile from her lips. She knew that she shouldn't feel so giddy, but sneaking away from Gregory's room made her feel as she had when she had been presented at court five years ago, when she had been swarmed with suitors. She had become adept at sneaking from men's rooms into her own just before dawn, much to the consternation and frustration of her governess, worried that the young noblewoman's reputation would be tarnished.

Smoothing down her skirts and rearranging her hair in an attempt for a normal appearance, Millicent shook her blonde curls away from her face, her chin held high in defiance as adrenaline raced through her veins. She was no longer watched by governesses, and her time was her own. Deciding not to return to her own rooms, Millie walked briskly down the corridor away from the prince's rooms, the smile returning, feeling like a naughty child.

The warm afternoon sunlight poured through the windows, and the servants quickly moved out of the way for the distracted noblewoman, pretending not to notice her flushed color, her rumpled appearance, the way her green eyes glowed, or the direction she came from. It would be much discussed in scandalous whispers down in the servants' quarters later that night, but no servant was foolish enough to say anything within her earshot. The guards standing solemn at their posts at the doors to the prince's bedchamber shared a knowing look behind their sovereign's back when Gregory exited minutes later, his clothes wrinkled and hastily straightened, his brown hair askew in a careless attempt to make it look presentable.

Millie found her way to the rooms of the court physician, knowing that Gregory would not question her absence. He was ordered to attend a council meeting, and he had agreed not to meet her until she came to his chambers tonight. They were careful to keep their relationship one of friendship to the watchful court, and Millie made no secret of her disapproval of his approaching marriage to a commoner.

"Lady Millicent?" The young man in a physician's robe hurried forward, halting to bow, his black hair flopping into his face. Dipping his head in respect, he realized that his hands were covered with a strange green fluid, and with an embarrassed blush, he strode to the nearby basin, quickly washing the fluid from his hands.

"I apologize, Lady Millicent, I was experimenting."

Millie waved away his groveling apologies, still in too good a mood to be irritated. "Never mind, Hawkins," she ordered. "Do you have what I asked for?"

The young man's gray eyes radiated relief and devotion as he hurried to the shelves above his work table, relieved the lady was not displeased with his tardiness. Rummaging through the many bottles stacked neatly above his cluttered work space, the physician found what he was looking for, turning back to the noblewoman with what appeared to be a perfume bottle in his hand.

"Here it is, Lady Millicent."

Millicent's green eyes sharpened with interest as she took the bottle from the young man, and her pleased smile became a grim one as she nodded at the physician.

"Thank you, Hawkins. This will work?"

The young man nodded emphatically, gesturing to a rat that scrabbled busily at the bottom of its wire cage, searching for food. "I tested it on Niwa myself. It will work."

Millie arched an eyebrow at the name, closing her fist over the bottle and extracting a small purse from the folds of her skirts. "I appreciate your expert work, Hawkins. Will this ensure your silence?"

Her cousin grinned at her as he took the purse, listening to the jangle of coins within as if he could determine the exact amount by sound alone. "You never have to buy the silence of kin," he promised her, "but the money is appreciated."

Millie made a half-hearted snatch at the purse as if to reclaim it, her good mood returning. "You are paid by the king himself," she scolded, while Hawkins smirked at her, his gray eyes dancing, "what do you need with the money of your own family?"

Hawkins turned and straightened some loose papers on his desk, depositing the small purse in the wooden chest next to the table before Millie could regain it. "Money is always needed, Millie," he told her quietly, "no matter what your station is."

"How will you execute your plan?" Hawkins wanted to know, settling into a chair and gesturing for his cousin to do the same. Millie accepted his offer, settling gracefully into the wooden chair before giving her younger cousin a devious smile, which he returned.

"I will not share my secrets with you," she declared, holding the small crystal bottle up to the light, where the amber liquid glowed within. "You will hear about it from your servants soon. Gossip spreads among them before the courtiers even dare to whisper it."

Hawkins stretched his legs, crossing his ankles as he studied her, his gray eyes serious. "Can you keep yourself in the prince's bed for that long?"

Millie glared at him in response, her green eyes icy. "The prince loves me," she snapped, standing in a swirl of skirts. "I will not lose his interest."

Hawkins stood as she did, and gave her a slight bow. "Of course, Lady Millicent." Millie ignored his dubious tone, clutching the perfume bottle tightly.

"I have bought your silence," she told him quietly, "but I can silence you quickly if you betray me, kin or not."

Hawkin's gray gaze was steady as he gazed at her, unafraid of her threats, even if he knew they could easily be carried out. "May Fate bless you," he called as she exited his workroom.

Millie clutched the perfume bottle closer, feelings the designs in the crystal begin to imprint against her palm. "Fate has nothing to do with it," she whispered. "I will ensure my own destiny."

* * *

Miles away in the library of Reynard Manor, Wolfgang Lothar slammed another ancient tome shut and gave an involuntary sneeze as the dust rose into the air. Growling in disgust, he turned to survey the pile of books to his left, each thicker than the last and none providing the information he sought. On his right, another pile rose higher than the table he was currently using—the books he still had left to look through.

Three days. It was all the time he had, and glancing desperately at the dying sunlight slanting through the windows, Wolf felt as if he had already wasted a day. He was no closer to finding the answer he was desperately searching for,

Although he knew that the answer he needed was most likely in the archives in Ibbot, Wolf did not have a week to devote to riding towards the capital. Flipping open yet another book listing the Reynard family history, Wolf tried to push away the frustration he felt at finding Reuben's birth name carefully blackened with ink. Snarling curses against the entire Reynard line, Wolf shoved the book away, angrily seizing another book and venting his frustration by turning the pages as quickly as possible until he reached the family tree.

This one too had been blackened with ink where Rueben's true name should be, and Wolf nearly tore the page in half in his angry desperation. Before he could tear the page from the book, he realized the sunlight struggling through the window picked up the faintest glints of lettering, even through the dark ink.

Peering closely and praying that the sun wouldn't completely disappear before he could discover the name, Wolf held the page up to the light.

Try as he might, he could only discern four letters from within the black mark, but even those were enough to give him hope.

 _R-p-s-t-_

Everything else was blotted out by ink, and Wolf sat back in his chair, unsure of how to proceed. Although the letters gave him hope for discovering the name they spelled, they also baffled him. What name could the letters connect?

Quickly writing the letters down before they left his memory, Wolf took note of the darkening sky beyond the windows and decided to suspend his search for that day. Although Winnie might suspect that he had left the manor, Wolf had merely kept out of her way, making sure that she did not see him. He knew that if he did associate with her before the wedding, he would tempted to enlist her help to uncover the duke's real name, or he would spend too much time with her and lose his chance.

Secreting the scrap of paper with his four clues in his pocket, Wolf decided to forgo sleep for a few hours yet, leaving the library and the books stacked as they were. He would return to his search when dawn crept over the horizon, but Wolf felt the need to escape the confines of the manor for a few hours. He grinned to himself as he headed towards the kennels. Perhaps Lakelon the spaniel would be available for an excursion out in the forest beyond the estate, racing through the trees with only the moon to light the way.

* * *

Winnie attempted to glare at her best friend, but failed to express her displeasure as she was overtaken by a yawn. Roselyn stood before her, surrounded by six maids and a plethora of lace and silk, looking like a snow queen with her attendants, all garbed in white nightgowns and surrounded by fields of white.

Roselyn pursed her lips and propped her hands on her hips, her blue eyes clear and focused in opposition to Winnie's sleepy brown ones. "It's not the right pattern for her skin," she announced imperiously, causing at least half of the maids to scramble for another option, terrified of displeasing their princess.

Upon coming to the realization that Winnie would never willingly stand still long enough to submit to her wedding dress fittings when she was fully awake and could hide somewhere on the grounds, Roselyn had decided to use the cover of night to her advantage.

As soon as she knew Winnie would be deeply asleep, Roselyn summoned six maids and the wedding dress materials she had left over from her own fittings. Creeping into Winnie's room, Roselyn had directed the maids to turn the bedchamber into what appeared to be the back room of a seamstress' shop. Only then, when everything had been in place and the door securely locked, had Roselyn woken Winnie.

Winnie had barely had time to register that she was being shaken awake before she was pulled from her bed and forced into a standing position. Before she could truly comprehend was happening, fabric was draped over her, and Winnie felt the first pricking of pins.

She had made an attempt to escape her room, but sleep made her clumsy, and upon reaching the door, she had found Roselyn guarding it, making sure it remained securely locked.

Winnie was sure that if she was allowed to sleep again, her dreams would not reflect well upon the soon-to-be princess.

"Roselyn…" she muttered sleepily, swaying slightly as the maids twisted around her in an odd sort of dance, tucking and gathering the fabric along her body. "Why am I being fitted for dresses in the middle of the night?"

Roselyn looked too smug, Winnie observed, and a triumphant smile curled her lips. "I knew you wouldn't allow it otherwise," she told her friend, darting forward amongst the maids to hold another piece of fabric against Winnie's skin, nodding in approval.

"Yes, I was right, the creamier material looks better against your skin than the brighter white shades…"

Winnie ignored her friend, the words rolling together to become nonsense as they met her eyes. Mustering a pout, she gazed pleadingly at the other woman. "Is it done?"

The soon-to-be princess waved a hand dismissively, still examining the swath of fabric she held in her arms, muttering to herself about the different jewelry and gold and silver and decorations and….Winnie could feel her head begin to spin from the few words she picked up, and she yawned, her eyes closing on their own accord.

Roselyn shooed the maids out of the room, instructing them to leave the fabrics where they lay strewn across the room—the Lady Winifred would certainly want to examine them in the morning in order to pick the best for the tablecloths and the rest of her wedding trousseau.

Winnie, carefully extracted from the beginnings of her wedding dress, stood clad in her nightgown, her red hair tangling over her shoulder, blinking sleepy brown eyes as she dumbly watched the maids exit her room.

Roselyn fairly danced to her side, her blue eyes glowing, and Winnie watched her blearily, wondering what allowed Roselyn to be so awake and energetic just after the midnight hour.

"You're getting married in two days!" Roselyn squealed, hugging Winnie quickly before ushering her back into bed. She did not bother to apologize for dragging Winnie from her bed in the middle of the night—hopefully, Winnie would dismiss it as nothing more than a bad dream in the morning.

"Yes," Winnie mumbled without enthusiasm, climbing into bed and curling beneath her still-warm covers.

It was hours later, just before dawn, when Roselyn's words sunk in, pulling her from a deep sleep. She sat up, the terror and despair at her situation once again plaguing her, no longer held at bay by the peaceful realms of dreamless sleep.

Two days. In two days time, she would be married to a man she did not love.

* * *

 **A/N: Reviews are always appreciated!**


	12. Fate's Chance

**A/N: Thank you to everyone who renewed! Enjoy Chapter 12!**

* * *

Chapter 12: Fate's Chance

Curiously, the slippers were the first objects to penetrate the trance-like state she had allowed her mind to hold all morning. Decorated with creamy pearls and lace, they were tight enough to pinch her toes and make it impossible to take more than a few lady-like steps before wincing. They were no better than shackles, and she held back a whimper of pain as the shoes constricted around her feet once more, causing her to slow her progress.

This was wrong.

The silken material of her dress whispered against the marble floor as she made her way towards the gilded doors before her, surprised that the sound of her skirts began to form words as it met her ears.

 _Mistake…_ it seemed to taunt her, _mistake…_

She was vaguely aware of a pink object before her, making its way through the now-open doors, but when she opened her mouth to call out, to beg for an explanation, no sound emerged. Instead of inducing panic or confusion at her silenced tongue, all she could feel was a hopeless resignation, as if her fate had already been decided.

Perhaps she should have been surprised at the sight of so many people crowded into the ballroom, standing shoulder to shoulder at their seats, all faces turned towards her. At the sight of so many faces, she waited for the customary panic, but she seemed devoid of emotion, registering only the faintest annoyance.

Her gaze had cleared slightly, now that her senses were returning, and she watched as the woman before her led the way down the petal-strewn aisle, clearly expecting her to follow.

Faintly, she registered the sound of a slow march—growing louder as she concentrated on it—meant to escort her to the end of the aisle, to the center of the ballroom. Other than the music, there was nothing but the sound of her skirts against the floor, and the heavy expectant silence that followed her every movement as the numerous faces turned towards her as she passed.

The scent of roses assailed her nose, nearly overpowering in their numbers, but the smell alone could not fully pull her mind from its dream-like state. To the young woman, this was all still a dream, something she could easily awaken from.

It was not until she reached the end of her path and the man standing there reached out and took her hand that Winnie's mind startled awake.

Winnie blinked slowly, all her senses returning to her, along with her wits. She had allowed herself to be woken and dressed this morning in a foggy trance, in complete denial and hoping that everything happening around her was a dream. Eager to cling to whatever excuse she could, Winnie had thoroughly convinced herself that she was in nothing more than an awful dream, willing to humor her subconscious until dawn broke and reality beckoned.

Roselyn said nothing of Winnie's wooden movements and silence, sure that her friend was merely nervous about the upcoming nuptials. She was slightly disturbed by Winnie's blank stare and inability to truly respond to anything around her, but Roselyn assumed Winnie would come to her senses when they had reached the ballroom.

The warm touch of Rueben's hand was a jarring shock to Winnie's dulled senses, and she recoiled before she could comprehend what was happening, the horror of her situation dawning on her.

 _This is no dream._

The slightest crease between his eyebrows gave evidence to Rueben's displeasure at her flinch, but he reached out again and took her hand, his blue eyes glowing with triumph as he smiled at his pale bride.

 _Where is Wolf?_

The thought startled Winnie, and she jerked away as Rueben attempted to lead her to her proper place next to him. Gritting his teeth, the duke tightened his grip on her hand and pulled her towards him, only releasing her when she stood, trembling, where she belonged.

Winnie resisted the urge to cross her arms over herself, tightening her grip convulsively on the bouquet of roses she held in her arms, noticing their appearance for the first time.

Glancing out of the corner of her eye, Winnie scanned the crowd, panic beginning to well as she discovered that she recognized none of the faces watching her expectantly. After a morning spent in a fog, Winnie welcomed the panic, feeling it curl through her body.

 _Where is Wolf?_

Perhaps it was that question that truly startled her back to her senses, for Winnie knew that if this were truly a dream, Wolf would come sauntering down the aisle, a smirk on his face and the duke's true name on his lips. Winnie cast a desperate glance at the gilded doors she had just walked through.

No Wolf appeared.

She had been so consumed by her thoughts that she missed the beginning on the ceremony, as well as the ritual words, spoken by the _cohen_.

"Rueben Reynard, do you promise to remain bonded to this woman for all your days, and to never stray?"

"I do," the duke murmured, watching Winnie greedily, sensing that his prize was in his grasp.

"Winifred, do you promise to remain bonded to this man for all your days, and to never stray?"

Flummoxed, Winnie glanced towards Roselyn, hoping for an answer to her pleading gaze, but all she received was a delighted smile. Glancing back towards the duke, the young woman found Rueben watching her with a narrowed gaze, waiting for her answer.

Winnie opened her mouth to respond, praying for a silent tongue, praying for Fate to intervene, hating the expectant silence that pressed towards her as every nameless face watched her, waiting for her response—

"Did you miss me, Red?"

Silently, unnoticed by any of the nobles all intently watching the ceremony, Wolfgang Lothar had slipped down the aisle to lounge nonchalantly against an empty seat, looking completely out of place in his black attire against the many-hued finery of the nobles surrounding him.

"Wolf?" Winnie whispered incredulously, staring at the lean man as if he had been summoned by a dream, a hallucination for her tired and desperate mind.

The warm glow of his amber eyes as he gave her a small smile of acknowledgment eradicated every uncertainty she might have had about his reality, and Winnie found herself nearly smirking in triumph as she watched Wolf turn his gaze towards the incredulously angry duke, his eyes losing familiarity and gaining hunger—the look of a wolf when its prey is within its grasp.

"Your Grace," he announced, ignoring the murmurs that erupted around him, "you should not wed a woman when the name you give is not your own."

Rueben glared at the interfering man, unimpressed. "You have succeeded?"

Wolf inclined his head in the shortest of bows, acknowledging the truth in the statement. "I have."

Standing so close to the larger man, Winnie could see the momentary panic that flared to life in the duke's blue eyes, quickly smothered—panic that Wolf would be correct, and the fear that he would lose what he had fought for.

"Impossible!" The duke scoffed, gazing at Wolf in loathing. Wolfgang returned the stare, his gaze unflinching.

"Would you like me to tell you your fiancé's birth name?" Wolf asked Winnie, the question mild and unthreatening, but Winnie saw the duke stiffen, unsure if Wolf was bluffing.

"Leave us," he suddenly ordered of the assembled crowd, and with much confusion, the ballroom was cleared of everyone except for the four standing before the _cohen_.

Wolf looked around at the suddenly empty room, eyebrows raised. Turning back to his rival, he challenged, "Are you truly afraid of the truth being discovered?"

Rueben did not answer immediately, his gaze fixing on something beyond Wolf, near the doors, his lips curling into a sneer. "Is that your proof?"

Wolf did not look back; clearly, he knew what waited for his command. "Yes."

Winnie followed the duke's gaze as Wolf snapped his fingers in summons. Creeping down the aisle and looking terrified was the bronze hound Winnie had met in the kitchen weeks ago.

Winnie frowned. The hound was Wolf's proof? Shaking her head, she tried to remember the animal's name. It was something strange, she knew. Rustle? Rumple? Rust?

"What is your name?" Wolf asked curiously, addressing the hound as it settled next to him, leaning against his leg. "Is it Rupert?"

The dog gave no sound of hearing or understanding, keeping his brown eyes fixed on the duke.

Wolf continued to address the hound, ignoring the curious stares. "Is it Rumple?"

Winnie saw the duke flinch, but the animal at Wolf's feet gave no response.

This time, Wolf looked at the duke as he posed his final question. "Is your name Rumpelstiltskin?"

In response, the hound finally moved, his tail beating against the marble as he stood, staring at the man expectantly.

"Is that your name?"

The inquiry did not come from Wolf, but from Roselyn, watching the duke carefully, her blue eyes wide.

Rueben returned her gaze for only a moment before looking away. Silence reigned, until he slowly ground out, "It is my name."

Winnie turned to Wolf, unable to keep the smile from spreading over her face, feeling alive for the first time in three days. Wolf spared her only the smallest of grins before returning his attention to the defeated duke, his amber eyes giving a brighter hue with triumph.

"You have no right to marry Winifred," Wolf told the duke, "on terms of our wager. Do you deny it?"

For a moment, Winnie was sure that the duke would. "No," he grudgingly admitted, sounding as if the word had to be dragged from his mouth.

"We'll take our leave," Wolf said pointedly, his gaze on Winnie. Winnie took the hint, and, all too ready to escape the duke's presence, hurried back up the aisle without a backwards glance.

* * *

"Winnie!"

Roselyn burst into her friend's room, looking as if her world had turned itself inside-out without informing her.

Winnie stopped trying to struggle out of her wedding dress, wondering how the maids even managed to get her into it earlier that morning.

"Yes?"

"Why did you leave?" Roselyn demanded, propping her hands on her hips and for a moment, looking exactly like her mother.

"Are you mad?" Winnie shot back, hearing a few stitches tear as she forced the dress down her body, determined to be rid of it and wanting nothing more than to rip it apart. "I can't marry the duke! I never wanted to!"

"I thought you said you would try!" Roselyn retorted.

"Why do you mind?" Winnie replied. "He seems to enjoy your company more than mine!"

This brought her a moment's peace as Roselyn mulled over Winnie's last retort, clearly surprised by the idea. Finally, she blushed, tugging on her skirts.

"It doesn't matter," she said primly, "I'm promised to the prince."

Winnie bit her lip, remembering the way the prince had barely allowed Roselyn to embrace him as she said farewell.

"I have to go," Roselyn told her, sounding disgruntled. "I have to clean up the unused decorations and inform the kitchens that there will be no feast."

Finally freed of her wedding dress, Winnie slipped into a pair of pants, sighing in relief. When was the last time she had worn pants?

"Fine," she told Roselyn as her friend flounced towards the door, her brown curls tumbling from their perfect coif.

"Are you coming?" Roselyn demanded, suddenly swinging around to glare at Winnie. Taken aback by the ferocity of the other woman's glare, Winnie merely shook her head.

"I should not be around the duke."

With a disgusted sniff and a slammed door, Roselyn was gone, and a relieved silence descended.

It was quickly broken by a rapid knock, and Winnie frowned, unsure as to why Roselyn had returned so quickly. Perhaps to apologize?

Swinging the door open, she grinned at the person on the other side. "Thank you."

Wolf leaned against the door frame, smirking, pleased. "I couldn't allow such a beautiful lady to be married to a beast, Red."

Unsure of what to do, Winnie mirrored his posture, crossing her arms over her chest and blushing when Wolf's eyes followed her movements.

"You look like yourself again, Red." He told her quietly, his voice descending to the husky timbre that never failed to make her blush and look away.

This time, she did not look away, meeting his gaze with a playful smirk. "Really?"

Wolf stepped in the room, forcing her to retreat several steps, watching with wide eyes as he closed the door behind himself and leaned against her, regarding her seriously.

"I never liked you in dresses," he told her baldly, his amber eyes roving her frame. "You looked like a noble lady, not the girl I knew from Parisa Forest."

"Is looking like a lady a bad thing?" Winnie wondered, uncertain of how to respond to Wolf's honesty. She was used to his teasing, not this man standing before her, regarding her with open hunger.

"No," Wolf admitted, pushing away from the door and stepping forward. Wrapping his arms around her waist, he pulled Winnie towards him, pleased when she moved into his embrace willingly, resting her cheek against his collarbone.

"It was strange," Wolf admitted, "you looked like a noblewoman, a woman I had no business associating with."

Doing her best to ignore the pain and bitterness she heard in his voice, Winnie asked a question that had been bothering her since he appeared. "How did you find the duke's real name?"

Wolfgang stiffened at the mention of Rueben, frowning momentarily before allowing her unique scent of wild roses to calm him. "I remembered the hound's name, and I found some clues in the family tree."

"The duke did not challenge you," Winnie realized, wondering how she could have missed Rueben's passive surrender. He had not seemed upset at Wolf's ability to best him in the wager, but he had placed the wager in order to keep Wolf from interfering.

Wolf nodded, his chin bumping against her head. "He gave up too easily," the man growled, and Winnie felt his arms tighten around her, bringing her closer to him, as if to protect her. "It was too easy," Wolf repeated, as if to himself.

Pulling away, Wolf peered down into Winnie's brown eyes. "Pack your things tonight," he told her, "and be ready to leave for Ibbot at any time."

"Why?" Winnie wondered, and Wolf glared at the closed door as if someone was waiting in the corridor, ready to attack.

"I have a feeling," he growled, "the duke will try to reclaim you."

* * *

The moon shone through the open windows of the palace, washing the prince's bedchamber with its soft light. Millicent stood before the window, gazing at the stars above and cooling her face with the night breeze, clothed in nothing more than one of the prince's loose robes.

"I'm sorry," the pained, husky voice did not come from the woman at the window, but the man on the bed, clothed in silken sheets.

Surprised, Millie turned to give her lover a puzzled glance, her blonde curls mussed and glowing silver-white in the moon's light.

Gregory seemed oblivious to her allure, focusing his blue gaze on her face, looking guilty.

"I'm sorry," he repeated, and Millie barely refrained from rolling her eyes in annoyance.

"No," she chided lightly, rejoining him on the bed and ignoring the robe when it began to slip from her shoulders. She cradled his face in her hands, fascinated by the way his face lost all shadows in the moonlight, open for her examination of his every thought and emotion.

Now, he regarded her with a mixture of guilt, shame, and love. "I am promised to another," he told her, and now Millie did roll her eyes, tired of the five words she heard every time she visited his bed.

"I love you," she told him, leaning forward to press her lips to his.

Gregory tolerated the kiss for a few moments before pulling away. Millie nearly groaned. This was one night when her prince would not allow himself to be swayed from voicing his thoughts. "I love you as well," he told her, the earnest tone he used leaving no doubt of his sincerity.

"What's wrong?" Millie demanded, leaning back against the pillows and tracing the line of his jaw.

Gregory leaned into her touch for a moment, closing his eyes. Pressing a quick kiss to her palm, he murmured, "I should not do this."

"There is no one to stop you," Millie countered, tired of his guilt and indecision night after night. When Gregory opened his mouth to reply, Millicent continued ruthlessly, her green eyes narrowed. "Kings are known to have mistresses, are they not?"

Gregory stared at her, mouth agape. For several minutes, he pondered her question, finally raising his gaze to hers and asking softly, "Would you be content with such a position?"

Surprised, Millie stared. Would she be content as his mistress, while another claimed his throne? Perhaps. She would have his love, and perhaps his children, and she had never wanted power, for all that she was raised to wield it.

Millie looked into her prince's eyes and found her answer. "Yes," she told him. "If I could stay at your side for a moment longer, I would be content with that position."

Gregory's blue eyes darkened with a heat Millie easily recognized—and, she smugly knew, Miss Roselyn Lanton had never seen.

"Stay by my side," Gregory commanded, his voice rough, easily rolling until his body covered hers. Allowing the robe to slide easily from her body, Millie wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him closer.

"Always."

* * *

Winnie was awoken at dawn by someone roughly shaking her and frantically calling her name.

"Roselyn," she growled sleepily, rolling over, "go ' _way_. The wedding's over, no more fittings!"

"Winnie!" Roselyn cried shrilly above her. "Get up! It's not about the wedding!"

Winifred peered through sleep-filled eyes at her friend, frowning. "Then what's wrong?"

Roselyn's lips trembled, as if she were about to cry. "Winnie, Rueben arrested Wolf this morning."

* * *

 **A/N: Reviews are appreciated!**


	13. Innocence

**A/N: Sorry for the late update! I was on vacation this last week, and away from my computer. Thank you to all who have favorited, followed, and reviewed this story. Please enjoy!**

* * *

Chapter 13: Innocence

Alert now, sleep banished by the panic that she felt at Roselyn's words, Winnie nearly tumbled from the bed in her haste to extract herself from the sheets.

"Why?" She demanded, slipping on her robe over her nightgown, her brown eyes anxious. "What happened?"

Roselyn shook her head, indicating her ignorance. "I was wandering the castle this morning. I couldn't sleep," she added quickly when Winifred raised a coppery eyebrow in question. "I heard Wolf and Rueben arguing when I passed one of the rooms. Rueben accused Wolf of stealing something."

"Where are they?" Winnie asked, hurrying towards the door. Roselyn's hand on her arm stopped her, and she turned back, confused. Roselyn's pointed glance brought her hand to her throat, and Winnie nearly cursed as she felt the cool metal of the sunbird pendant against her fingertips.

She had forgotten about it in the aftermath of her not-wedding, and she had fallen asleep with it still around her neck. Careless of clasp and chain, Winnie tugged it from her throat, casting it aside to the nearby table.

At Roselyn's approving nod, she gave a wry grin. "I don't need it any more."

"Now," she demanded, reverting back to the task at hand, "where are they?"

"From what I know," Roselyn said tentatively, glancing away, "they should be in Rueben's study."

Without waiting for her friend, Winnie left the room, grabbing her knife and belt on the way out—just to be safe. She had made it halfway down the hall before realizing that she didn't know where she was headed. Whirling around, she found Roselyn trailing behind her, as if it were some leisurely walk and not a race to save a man's life.

"Come on!" Winnie cried, impatient, and Roselyn finally quickened her pace, responding to the panic and anger in her friend's voice.

After a few wrong twists and turns that only increased Winnie's anxiety, the two women burst into the study, Rueben's guards behind them, adamant that they not intrude on the master.

Duke Rueben Reynard stood before the glass window behind his desk, looking out onto the fields of his estate, the wheat gleaming in the morning sunlight. Flanked by two guards, Wolfgang Lothar stood with his back to the expansive bookshelves, his wrists bound but otherwise unharmed.

As Winnie and Roselyn skidded into the room, Wolf stiffened at the sight of the guards behind them, sending the duke a venomous look, under the mistaken impression that Rueben had ordered their capture as well. As soon as he realized that they could move freely, a look of profound relief crossed his face, and he sent Winnie a reassuring smile.

"I'm all right, Red." He smirked, his worried gaze and stiff posture belying the nonchalant words. "Were you worried about me?"

Winnie did not waste breath scolding him, nor did she bother to glare in his direction, as she would have in any other situation. "What has he done?"

"He has stolen a family heirloom." Rueben did not turn at her angry demand, and he kept his back to her, making it clear that he no longer found her worth speaking to. "I desire its safe return."

Winnie glanced at Wolf, unsure and knowing nothing about any stolen heirloom. Wolfgang regarded her, his jaw set with indignant anger, his amber eyes pleading. Winnie shook her head. He could not have done this.

"He did not steal it." Her bold defense caused the duke to stiffen.

Now he did turn towards her, and Winnie suppressed a shudder at the way his blue eyes glittered with something akin to madness. Shaking her head to clear the last vestiges of sleep that clung to her consciousness, the young woman raised her defiant gaze to Rueben's, determined to leave the room with both her companions.

"If you cannot prove his innocence," the duke drawled, a smile curling the ends of his lips into a sneer, "I reserve the right as lord of this manor to have him killed as a common thief."

In response, Wolf snarled, a feral sound that caused both the guards at his side to jump, surprised at such a noise erupting from the throat of a man. He lowered his head, his amber eyes narrowed, his dark hair brushing against his face as he faced the duke, his expression full of contempt. For a moment, Winnie could easily see him as a powerful wolf, chained but not broken.

"I did not steal the heirloom."

The pleading gaze he sent Winnie as he took his gaze off Rueben for an instant was enough for her to lift her chin, brushing her red hair away from her face as new determination took hold. While the flash of fear she read in his expression was enough to summon an answering shiver that raced through her body, it also cemented her own resolve.

She could not allow him to be killed simply because he was innocent.

"However," the duke continued, coolly ignoring Wolf's seething hatred, fixing his gaze on Winnie, "if you agree to marry me, he can go free."

Winnie stood dumbfounded, vaguely making the connection between Rueben's greedy offer and Wolf's warning from the night before. The duke watched her, his golden hair shining in the sun, his blue eyes glittering with greed. In that moment, whatever attraction Winnie had held for the man because of his appearance vanished. His greed and ambition had twisted him, and in that moment, she felt nothing by hatred.

Fueled by the anger and disgust, Winnie found herself stepping forward, her hand straying unconsciously to the hilt of her knife. Keeping her gaze locked with the duke's, she faced him across the wide expanse of his desk, her brown eyes narrowed.

"I can prove Wolfgang's innocence."

Rueben gaped at her for a moment, his blue eyes widening with shock, and Winnie risked a glance to her right, finding Wolf staring at her as if she had lost her mind.

"How?" The duke demanded, his voice sharp. "How do you know he is innocent?"

Sending a fervent prayer to Fate that Wolf was as excellent an actor as her grandmother claimed, Winnie squared her shoulders and met Rueben's gaze steadily.

"He was with me." Her voice quavered on the last word, but she did not take her eyes from the duke, unable to look at Wolf, not daring to see what his reaction might be.

"What?" In any other setting, Winnie would have found the way Rueben's jaw threatened to hit his desk amusing, but she could not allow herself to become distracted. She had a part to play.

"He was with me last night," she told him, unable to hold his gaze and looking away as she blushed, unsure if anyone present could discern that she was lying.

Silence reigned after her bold announcement, and Winnie wondered why Roselyn had not said anything. Under any other circumstance, such news would have her squealing with delight and demanding the entire story. Unwilling to glance to her left and discover her friend's reaction, Winnie focused her attention on the rising sun, taking in the orange and pink hues that decorated the sky.

"I didn't think you would announce it so suddenly."

Winnie breathed a silent sigh of relief as Wolf's statement broke the silence. Turning to meet him, she watched as he easily broke the holds of his flummoxed guards and prowled towards her, acting as if they were the only two in the room, his amber gaze arresting hers easily.

 _Acting_. Yes, the playful teasing of a lover was there, Winnie saw, but beneath that playful glance was puzzlement, a need for an answer to the pressing question: _Why are you doing this?_ Winnie sighed audibly this time, her relief hammering in her blood in time with her racing heart. Wolf would play along. As long as he acted as she did, they stood a chance to escape with their lives.

"I'm sorry," she told him quietly, hoping that he could read beneath the obvious apology everyone else could discern. "I couldn't lose you."

Wolf came to halt before her, and Winnie bit her lip, sheltered from the duke for a moment by his body. The astonishment in his gaze made it difficult for her to continue acting, and she could not keep herself from blushing. She had not meant for that last statement to pass her lips! She could not allow truth to muddle their conversation!

Attempting to pull herself back into her role, and hoping that she would not lose her composure again, the woman pressed her hand to Wolf's cheek, trying to ignore the way her heart pounded when he pressed his lips to her palm, quickly turning his gaze back to her. Winnie tried to push away the memories of the he had held her the afternoon before, the way he had kissed her four days ago, but with prolonged contact, she could not keep herself distanced from the young lover she was attempting to emulate.

"Is this true?"

Rueben's tone carried all of the disgust evident in his expression, and Winnie looked up at him as Wolf moved around her, standing behind her. Before she could answer, he raised his bound wrists and slipped his arms over her head, holding her in his embrace.

"It is." Wolf's growl behind and above her caused Winnie to shiver, reassured and thrilled by the possessive tone.

In order to prove his point, Wolf pressed a gentle kiss to Winnie's cheek, enjoying the jealousy and disgust that combined in Rueben's visage to give him a strange look. When Winnie closed her eyes, her breath catching, Wolf smirked, pleased at the reaction his attentions received.

Unable to resist goading his one-time rival, Wolf continued his ministrations, trailing his lips along the curve of Winnie's neck, towards the hollow of her throat. Pausing at her shoulder and listening to the way Winnie's breathing quickened, Wolf realized that Winnie did not wear the gold chain she had worn the day before. She was no longer Rueben's, and Wolf could not resist grinning at the sight of her unadorned throat.

Lifting his triumphant gaze to the duke, Wolf smirked at the nobleman. "Convinced?" He asked softly, smoothly raising his arms and stepping away from Winnie, unable to ignore the way she immediately turned to him, her breathing irregular, her brown eyes soft and wide.

The disgust in Rueben's face had yet to depart, and he glanced away, anger quickly suffusing his expression.

"But," Roselyn protested, breaking the silence that had fallen, "Winnie was alone when I found her this morning."

At this, Winnie roused herself from the hazy stupor Wolf's proximity had caused, realizing that Roselyn's comment could tear their fragile story to shreds.

"I was _alone_ ," she hissed, whipping around to glare at Roselyn, ignoring the way her friend recoiled, "because I sent Wolf away just before dawn. I didn't want him to be found. I couldn't allow my reputation to be questioned."

The lie was out of her mouth before she could stop it or question it, and Winnie turned towards the duke, unsure of where her words had come from, natural and slipping easily from her tongue. Deciding not to question Fate's unexpected blessings, Winnie once again raised her head to hold Rueben's gaze, awaiting his verdict.

But the duke had turned his back on them, once again facing the fields beyond his manor.

When he finally spoke, it was in the icy tones of a man who had been defeated, but not destroyed.

"You are free to leave my manor. I pray you never return."

* * *

"Lady Millie."

Millicent winced at the queen's use of her title. She knew that Queen Arnia only meant it as a sign of affection, and that the monarch would never use her familiar name.

"Your Majesty." She swept the queen a low curtsey, as was proper, and then sat in the low chair the queen had provided, leaning over to kiss the older woman on the cheek—a familiar gesture. Millie had performed this ritual every day since the age of twelve, when she had been deemed old enough to sit with the women and begin learning a new set of lessons that she would never encounter in the schoolroom: etiquette, embroidery, and the ways of courtly gossip.

Millicent had learned at an early age that the less the court ladies knew about a woman, the less tangible proof they could gather to slander her name. She learned from the queen's own ladies-in-waiting that if one played the mysterious lady from a foreign land, the court would be hers to rule.

Millie prized her friendship with Gregory too much to completely give up his companionship, but she did dabble in court gossip and intrigue in her first few seasons after she had been present at court.

That had all changed when Gregory made his displeasure known. If anyone made any remarks on how quickly Millicent's demeanor changed in the summer of her sixteenth year, she did not hear of it. Eager to keep the friendship of the man she was infatuated with, Millie had quickly left court intrigues to younger girls in order to spend time at Gregory's side.

"You are quiet this morning, Lady Millicent," Arnia observed, her needle flashing in the sunlight as she sewed an elaborate pattern onto the edges of the newest tapestry. She did not keep an eye on her work; the queen was well-known to be one the best seamstresses in the kingdom, and did not need to keep her gaze on her hands.

Millie flushed under the queen's perceptive gaze, embarrassed to have been found daydreaming so early in the day.

"I beg your pardon," she murmured quietly, making no move to assist the other women with the completion of the tapestry. "I was caught in memories."

Arnia's gray eyes were understanding, and a sly smile pulled at the corners of her lips. "About my son?"

"Prince Gregory?" Millicent knew her attempts to feign innocence were thwarted when her face flushed again under the queen's piercing gaze. It was impossible to pretend that she felt nothing for him—the entire court had known for years that she loved him! Glancing away as she remembered the night she had spent in Gregory's bed, Millie was recalled by the queen's calm voice.

"I worry for you both," Arnia said softly, her voice barely audible over the excited chatter of her ladies only feet away, happily speculating over what the new princess would look like, how she would act.

Millie bent her head closer to the queen and plucked at the edge of the colorful tapestry, keeping her gaze focused on the blue thread that marked the border, as if she were assisting with the embroidery. Her blonde brow furrowed in response to the queen's remark, confused.

"You should not worry for me, Your Majesty," Millicent said softly, her green eyes trained on the horse being stitched by one of the younger ladies in the corner of the cloth. "You should only concern yourself with the arrival of our princess."

The words left a sour taste in her mouth as she said them, but Millie knew that they must be uttered. No one must know of the animosity she held towards the unseen Princess Roselyn! While the court expected her vehement words of disgust, they assumed that they were only made from the fear of Millie losing the prince's friendship and the chance at love, not the venomous words spat from the mouth of a jealous lover towards a rival she had never encountered.

Fear of the unknown caused Millie to become restless the last few nights, plagued by nightmares of a temptress she could not name, ripped from Gregory's arms and cast out, cold and unloved. As a result, she had been moody and short the last few days, causing many to ask if she was suffering some illness—or perhaps even madness, as her rival journeyed ever closer to Ibbot.

"It is you I worry for," Arnia abandoned all pretense of embroidering and gazing directly at Millie. "If you and my son were to become…entangled…" The queen trailed off and sighed, her gray eyes given a blue hue in the sunlight. "It would not end well. My son has made his choice." She turned and stared directly at Millicent, all motherly compassion towards the younger woman eradicated from her expression. "I ask as your queen that you do not make his choice any more difficult to bear."

Millie flinched inwardly—she knew a royal order when she heard it. Immediately, she was at war with herself, part of her demanding that she obey her queen. Another part remembered with pleasure the nights spent at Gregory's side, and the promise she had given him to stay at his side, the solution she had discovered.

Raising her head, her green eyes unreadable and her face devoid of all emotion, Lady Millicent of Hake gazed at her queen. "Yes, Your Majesty."

The queen nodded and turned away, gently reprimanding one of the younger servant girls for allowing the lapdogs to run loose, snapping at the stray threads that hung from the tapestry.

Seeing that her monarch's attention was diverted, Millie took her leave, sweeping her queen the proper—and unnoticed—curtsy before she deserted the room, eager to be away from the mindless chatter of the ladies, anxious to find Gregory. She could not stay away from him, no matter what she may have promised his mother. His wishes came first, for he would always have more sway over her than Queen Arnia.

Queen Arnia looked up and discovered Lady Millicent gone, shaking her head in despair, her gray eyes shadowed with the grief of a woman who has seen such a story played before her eyes too many times.

 _Those young fools. Do they know what they risk?_

* * *

Rueben Reynard refused to leave his position at the window, even when he heard the doors to his study slowly open and softly close. He still seethed with anger and disgust, cheated out of a prize he deserved.

How dare Winnie refuse him under his own roof—twice! He did not care that she had taken another man to her bed—it made no difference to him. She had refused his marriage proposal by allowing Wolfgang to approach her in a way he had never achieved during their short courtship.

Rueben sensed that someone stood behind him, waiting to be addressed, and he assumed it was his steward. "Yes, Stefan, what is it?"

"I beg your pardon, Rueben."

At the sound of that soft, feminine voice, the duke of Reynard Manor spun around, coming face to face with his cousin's betrothed and unable to keep the smile from his visage.

"Roselyn!"

The princess-to-be stood before his desk, clearly dressed for traveling. The dark blue riding outfit she had donned since he had last seen her that morning attested to the fact that she planned to ride to Ibbot.

"My dear," he told her, hurrying around his desk to clasp her hands in his, "you do not need to ride the entire journey to the capital. Please, take my carriage."

Roselyn trembled as she looked up at him, her blue eyes wide in her pale face, her brown curls swept up into a simple bun. "I couldn't," she whispered, daring to draw close enough to press her cheek to his chest, directly over his heart. "They wouldn't want it."

Rueben gathered her into his arms, a frown marring his handsome features. He knew the _they_ she referred to, but he preferred not to think of them. "My cousin would not like to see you riding with only your friends for company. You should have a full guard, befitting a princess."

Roselyn shook her head, her shivering slowly ceasing. "I am not a princess by birth," she told him, her voice muffled in his shirt. "Such things do not bother me."

"Stay with me," Rueben found himself pleading impetuously, tipping her head back to meet his sincere gaze with a gentle finger. "I could escort you myself."

Roselyn dashed his hopes by once again shaking her head. "I must go with my friends," she told him firmly, her chin trembling, her blue eyes shimmering with unshed tears. "I will not leave them."

Rueben could not resist: before she could protest or they could be discovered, he had pulled her closer and kissed her, unable to ignore the flash of pleasure that darted through his veins as she responded, wrapping her arms around his neck and allowing him to pull her closer, inhaling her sweet perfume.

Releasing her the moment his senses returned to him, Rueben brushed his thumb against her swollen lips, letting his fingertips trace over her heated cheeks.

Roselyn Lanton was his princess-to-be. She was his cousin's intended.

She could never be his.

"You are wearing my gift," Rueben remarked softly, watching the diamonds in the necklace sparkle in the sunlight that reached them, brushing his fingers against it, almost losing himself as they floated over her soft skin as well, discerning her quickening heartbeat.

"I can't risk losing it by packing it amongst my bags," Roselyn told him, once again resting against him.

The duke looked down at her, finding that the sight of Roselyn gazing up at him with instinctive trust shining from her wide blue eyes to be nearly his undoing.

Groaning quietly, Rueben cupped her cheek in his hand, unable to keep himself from her soft skin. "Those diamonds may be my gift to you," he told her softly, "but my cousin is gaining the greater treasure."

Roselyn's cheeks burned brightly at his words, and she stretched up as if to press her lips against his again, but Rueben quickly pulled away, doing his best to ignore the hurt that flashed through her eyes. If he allowed himself to kiss her again, he knew what would happen.

Sweeping her a low bow, Rueben kept his eyes on the thick carpeting, attempting to compose himself. After a long moment, he caught Roselyn's hand in his own, lifting it to his lips and brushing the most courtly of kisses against it, echoing their first meeting.

"It was a pleasure hosting you, Roselyn. Your companions will be waiting for you."

The duke hated to see the pain flare in the young woman's eyes, but he knew that such distance was necessary. Leading her to the doors she had used to enter his private domain, Rueben opened it for her with a slight bow, unable to keep his eyes from hers.

"Good-bye, Your Highness."

Tears trembled in her eyes, and she looked for all the world as if he had just banished her, but Rueben steeled himself, gave her a curt nod, and shut the door in her face, unable to look at her any longer.

He heard her rapid retreat down the corridor, and he walked heavily over to his desk, bracing his hands against the edge before allowing his shoulders to slump, overcome by the short encounter with the princess-to-be.

Rueben lifted his head, staring out over the fields of wheat just beyond his window, the symbol of his wealth. He had thought that Roselyn's friend could help him gain entrance back to the glittering world of the court, but he had ended up losing his heart to the woman who was promised to his cousin. Banishment did not suit him, and for years, his only ambition was to gain the king's favor once again.

What could be done?

* * *

 **A/N: Reviews are always appreciated!**


	14. Dubious Reunions

**A/N: Here's Chapter 14, to make up for my lack of an update. Please enjoy!**

* * *

Chapter 14: Dubious Reunions

"Why did you do that, Red?"

Winnie twisted in the saddle to meet Wolf's puzzled gaze, then shrugged, feigning ignorance.

"What are you talking about?"

With a barely audible growl, Wolf leaned from his seat and tugged Winnie's mare to a stop, only releasing the chestnut equine when she had halted, ignoring Winnie's attempts to pry his fingers from the reins. His amber eyes bored into her brown ones, demanding an answer, and Winnie squirmed, uncomfortable under his intense gaze, feeling as if the afternoon sun was suddenly too hot on her back.

"Why did you lie?" Winnie blushed at the question, averting her gaze towards the trees on the other side of the road.

"I couldn't let him kill you for something you didn't do," she murmured, only turning back to face him when she was sure the flush had faded from her cheeks.

"What if I stole it?" Wolf's inquiry was casual, his voice light, and Winnie stared at him, mouth agape, shocked. Wolfgang gazed at her seriously, all customary teasing gone from his expression.

"Did you?"

Slowly, Wolf shook his head, frowning. "I did not. I don't even know what he was referring to."

For the first time since leaving Reynard Manor, sitting calmly her white mare on Winnie's opposite side, Roselyn spoke. "He tried to accuse you of stealing a necklace that had belonged to his mother."

Both of her companions stared at her in surprise, and the princess-to-be shifted in the saddle, gazing back towards Reynard Manor with a strange, wistful look on her face.

"Why?"

Roselyn did not turn to meet their incredulous gazes, and she continued to stare in the direction they had come, towards the manor and the lord they had just left.

"He wanted Winnie."

Her soft, flat reply summoned a snarl of distaste to Wolf's lips. "We know."

"He wanted Winnie in order to gain acceptance in the royal court." Roselyn continued, ignoring Wolf's outburst, her blue eyes growing unfocused as she considered something beyond her companions. "He spoke of it often."

Winifred stared at her friend, confused by the obvious rapport Roselyn remembered sharing with Rueben. "How often did you speak to him?"

At her question, Roselyn seemed to recall herself, and she calmed her skittish mare as she turned in the saddle to give Winnie a reprimanding glare. "I spent my time with him because you refused to!"

Stunned by her friend's venomous and sudden outburst—layered with pain and anger that Winnie had never encountered in Roselyn before—Winnie watched in confusion as Roselyn urged her mare into a trot, moving rapidly down the road.

"Red?"

At Wolf's concerned question, the red-headed woman shook her head, feeling helpless and unable to give him an answer. _What was that about?_

* * *

Turning the pale lily over in her hands, Millicent inhaled the scents of the gardens around her. The imperial gardens were populated with a variety of flowers, some from the far reaches of the world, but she could not find the peace she normally discovered in this secluded place. It eluded her, much as the rose petals did when the wind knocked them from their precarious perches and sent them swirling through the air.

"Millie?"

At any other time, Lady Millicent of Hake would have welcomed that voice with a smile, but now, she steadily turned on the bench, away from her companion.

Gregory would not be so easily deterred, and he stepped quickly over to the stone perch, sitting down beside her and reaching for her hands.

The familiar touch did not soothe her, and Millie refused to look at him as he attempted to raise her gaze to his.

"What's wrong?"

"Is it true?" Millie asked calmly, lifting her chin defiantly and refusing to allow the tears to leave the corners of her eyes.

Gregory's brow creased in puzzlement, and Millicent clenched her hands, stifling the urge to smooth away his worry, as she had done so many times before.

"Did you receive word from your cousin?" The words were soft, almost pulled away by the breeze before the prince would hear them.

The crown prince of Loken sat back, his brow smoothing itself, pleased to have some answer to her odd behavior. He stared at her seriously, his blue eyes searching her green ones, endeavoring to find some evidence to her inner turmoil.

"Is that what's wrong?" Gregory asked with a quiet chuckle, leaning forward to press a gentle kiss to his lover's forehead.

Millie pulled away slightly, barely allowing his lips to brush her skin. She stared up at him, her green eyes burning with a feverish light as she demanded information. "What did he say?"

"Rueben's falcon delivered a message that Roselyn had left his manor six days ago and will most likely be arriving this afternoon."

Millie flinched from the sound of Miss Lanton's name, her eyes gaining shadows in the sunlit garden for a moment. "So soon?"

Gregory gave her a reassuring smile, raising a hand to cradle her cheek. "Millie, you knew this day would come."

The reassuring smile disappeared as a grimace took its place, and the prince looked decidedly nervous as he voiced his next question. "Millie, would you help her learn her way around the court?"

For a moment, Gregory thought perhaps his lover would faint. She stilled, her green eyes widening and all color draining from her face. Then she seemed to regain her mobility, for she was suddenly towering over him, on her feet, her face twisted into a grimace of pain and incredulous rage.

"Do not ask this of me!" She spat, beginning to tremble, twisting away from his embrace as Gregory stood and attempted to take her into his arms.

"Do not, Gregory!" Millie cried, her voice rising as she began to pace in the small space, her green eyes once again regaining their feverish cast. "I cannot retain my place at court and befriend your bride! It would be madness! You would put both of us in danger!"

The prince reached out to her, his brown hair flopping into his face as he considered her seriously. Despite her anger and fear, Millie could not resist smoothing away the errant locks, allowing herself to draw strength from the simple touch of his skin, breathing deeply and attempting to calm her trembling.

Gregory gazed at her quizzically, worry once again causing lines to appear on his brow. "Danger? Millie, what do you mean?"

Millicent averted her gaze, biting her lip as she considered the lilies that grew nearby. She could not allow the man she loved to know the true meaning behind her words.

"Greg," she told him softly, noticing the way his blue eyes softened with relief when she used his childhood nickname, "you know what happens when two young hounds from the same pack are placed in a cage together?"

"Of course," the prince replied easily, thinking of the many hounds he had commanded on the hunt. "One will kill the other, and the champion will become the sire of a new pack."

Millicent cradled his face in her hands, giving him a tremulous smile, ready to give in to the tears that had waited too long for escape. "Do not ask me to assist your bride," she whispered, pressing her lips against his gently. "You would see us encounter the same fate as your hounds."

She turned to go, ready to flee from the small space, feeling the hedges and bushes close around her, the heady perfume of the flowers suddenly cloying, but Gregory caught her wrist and drew her back into his arms.

"Be at my side when she arrives," he pleaded softly. "You will find you have nothing to fear from Roselyn."

Millie nearly refused, but gazing into his imploring blue eyes, she found she could not deny him anything, no matter how painful she might find the request.

Bowing her head in defeat, she pressed her head to her prince's shoulder. "I will be there."

* * *

"What's your business in the castle?"

The guard at the gate was not in the mood for elaborate stories—he had heard them all since dawn, as it seemed every person in the kingdom endeavored to be at the prince's wedding.

However, the three travelers before him now seemed of nobler stock. The woman on the white mare straightened her saddle, giving him a disdainful, imperious glare.

"You would dare delay your princess?" She hissed, her blue eyes flashing dangerously, and the guard suddenly took in the four guards that rode behind her—all wearing the royal insignia.

Feeling foolish and ducking his head in embarrassment, the guard quickly opened the gate, bowing low as his future monarch passed.

Winnie followed Roselyn through the gate, sensing her friend's mounting excitement as they drew closer to their journey's end. Soon Roselyn would be married to the prince of the kingdom, and Winnie found herself wondering if she would miss the refined lady her friend had turned into.

"Gregory!" Roselyn barely allowed the groom to take her mare's reins before she was sliding from her mount and rushing across the courtyard to embrace her betrothed, completely disregarding the other three people standing with him.

Winnie slipped off her own mare, grateful for Wolf's presence as he came up beside her, unsure of what to do as the grooms led their horses away.

She watched as Gregory embraced Roselyn slowly, almost if he despised himself for doing so. Winnie wondered if it was a courtly rule about intimate embraces that kept the prince in such a reserved manner, or if he was truly not pleased to see her.

He didn't seem to be, as he introduced her to the three people standing near him, his blue eyes curiously devoid of any welcoming or loving emotion.

"Lady Roselyn," he announced, loud enough to carry, "may I present you to my parents?"

Giving her monarchs a tremulous smile, Roselyn swept King Carolos and Queen Arnia a low curtsey, looking up with surprised pleasure as Queen Arnia leaned forward to raise her up, embracing her.

"This," Gregory told his intended, tucking her arm in his, "is my friend, Lady Millicent of Hake."

Winnie noticed the prince sounded nervous as he introduced the two women, and she watched as they regarded each other warily. Lady Millicent scrutinized the younger woman before her, and her green eyes flashed with barely concealed disgust.

As if it pained her, the blonde woman lowered herself into a stiff curtsey. "Your Highness." The words were quiet, and Winnie nearly missed them in the silence of the courtyard, but even inaudibility could not mask the resentment that the titled contained. Even the monarchs were quiet, sensing that something important had transpired.

"I've missed you," Roselyn surprised them all by murmuring, reaching up to brush a kiss against Gregory's cheek and blushing with pleasure when he returned the gesture. Winnie turned her gaze to Lady Millicent, wondering why a friend of the prince's was present when Roselyn arrived, and she found that the older woman was pale, as if she were ill, her green eyes glittering with some harsh emotion that Winnie instinctively flinched from.

"Winnie!" Roselyn beckoned from ahead, and Winifred hurried to catch up.

When she reached her friend, she found the princess' spirits restored: her eyes glowed with excitement, and she beamed at Winnie, nearly bouncing as she accompanied Gregory into the castle.

"Winnie, there's a ball tonight!" Roselyn grinned at Winnie, delighted, and then hugged her arms to herself, pleased. "It's held in my honor!"

Winnie frowned, nearly protesting. "Roselyn, our trunks did not come with us."

Roselyn's face fell, and she turned towards the prince. Gregory anticipated her question, and he managed to smile down at her, barely glancing at Winnie.

"My mother had many dresses made for your arrival," he told his betrothed, accepting her quick kiss of thanks. "You as well, Lady Winifred."

Winnie started at the title, then remembered her manners. "Thank you, Your Highness." In truth, she wanted to feign sickness or exhaustion from the long journey in order not to attend the ball, but she knew that Roselyn would expect her there.

* * *

"Hold still!" Winnie squirmed in response, summoning an exasperated sigh from her friend as Roselyn tightened her grip on Winnie's shoulders and nodded for the hairdresser to continue.

"Winnie, will you please behave!" Roselyn scolded, sounding like her mother.

The red-headed woman glared at her friend's reflection in the mirror, frowning. "You know I don't enjoy this things."

"I want you with me," Roselyn said firmly, tugging one of the last curls into place. Winnie bit her lip and surveyed her hair, wishing she could truthfully say she disliked the arrangement.

Somehow, the hairdresser had managed to tame her wavy hair into curls, piling them onto her head in an elaborate knot and leaving some to float around her face. The hue of her hair complimented the leaf green of her dress, and Winnie smoothed her skirts, blushing.

"You're beautiful." Roselyn breathed, dismissing the hairdresser with a wave of her hand.

Winnie stood and surveyed her friend through the mirror, a wry smile pulling her lips at the compliment. "Not when standing next to you."

Looking every inch a princess, Roselyn was dressed in a gown of midnight blue, silver embroidery at the hem, cuffs and neckline giving the impression of a night sky. She wore her sable curls loose and unbound, falling nearly to her waist. Her cheeks were flushed with excitement, and her blue eyes glowed, as if she had finally found where she belonged.

Roselyn had slipped into the role of princess easily only minutes after arriving at the palace. After weeks of ordering around the maids at Reynard Manor, her personal maids fell under her command obediently, and Winnie marveled at the way Roselyn seemed completely at home amongst the lavish hangings of her rooms, as if she had lived in palaces and castles all her life.

Winifred felt decidedly less comfortable in her opulent surroundings, and she wished she could escape her rooms in order to explore the royal gardens—with some many trees and flowers, perhaps she could regain some of the peace she felt at home in the forest.

Their rooms were adjoining at Roselyn's request, and when the knock sounded at Roselyn's door, the princess couldn't suppress a delighted giggle.

"Gregory!" With a rustling of skirts, she was at the door. Winnie was about to follow when someone knocked on her own door.

Assuming it was one of the servants coming to lead her to the ballroom, Winnie sighed and swung the door open.

She and Wolf stared in mutual amazement for a moment, each taking the other in. Winnie felt a blush creep up her neck as she noticed the warm glow in Wolf's amber eyes, surveying her much as he had that day long ago, in her grandmother's house.

Wolfgang was dressed much as he had been at the disastrous ball at Reynard Manor, but instead of midnight blue, he was dressed in a suit of black, his white shirt and cuffs gleaming against the inky-dark material. His hair—normally brushing his shoulders—was pulled into a horsetail.

Then Wolf grinned, a slow, lazy smile that reminded Winnie that the dashing man before her was the Wolfgang Lothar she had known from Satuton.

"Red, you're breathtaking," he told her in a husky tone that reminded her of the times he had held her close. Stepping closer, Winnie tipped her face towards his boldly, enjoying the way his amber eyes flashed with surprised pleasure.

"I didn't know you could be so handsome," Winnie teased, aware of his arms wrapping around her waist.

"Surprised?" Wolf smirked, unable to resist as he leaned down to press his lips against hers. It had been too long, he mused, too long since he had held her this way. Her lips were soft under his, her tongue flickering out gently to taste his lips. He groaned and returned the advance, claiming her mouth for his own. Winnie's fingers wound themselves into his hair, tugging his head closer to her own, and Wolf sank his fingers into the mass of red curls, heedless of the elaborate arrangement.

When they parted for air, Wolf groaned and pressed his lips against hers again, softly. "If we don't leave now," he growled, "we'll never make it to the ball."

Well aware that they stood on the threshold of her bedroom, Winnie saw the wisdom of his words but could not resist pressing against him again, uncaring of the wrinkles her dress sustained. Rewarded with a rumbling growl she could feel in Wolf's chest as she rested her head on his shoulder, Winnie could not stop the smile that slid over her face as Wolf brushed his fingers against her cheek, his breathing shallow.

"Red?" There was deeper, rawer edge to Wolf's soft whisper as he tightened his grip on her waist, stroking the curve of her spine. "Is that an invitation?"

Winnie heard the desperate longing in his voice, and while she longed in a deep, inexpressible way to answer it, she knew what her answer had to be.

Heaving a reluctant sigh, she pulled away, noticing the disappointment on Wolf's face as she did so. "If we don't go," she told him, a wry smile curling her lips, "I know Roselyn will come looking for me."

Wolf gave a strangled laugh. "As you wish, Red." His amber eyes were heated with a raw need that something deep within her responded to, causing her to shiver. Wolf shook his head, stepping away from her for a moment before turning back and offering his arm with a courteous bow.

Stepping into the ballroom, Winnie could not keep her surprised gasp contained. The room she stood in made the ornate ballroom of Reynard Manor seem drab by comparison. Every surface gleamed, reflecting gold and light until Winnie blinked, almost blinded by the brilliance.

Wolf's warm hand slipped into her own, and she looked up into his comforting smile. "Glad not to be introduced?" He asked quietly, and Winnie nodded fervently, shifting under the curious gazes she could sense they were drawing. They were newcomers to a court already established, and she could see several young women eyeing Wolf with undisguised interest. Winnie pretended to be oblivious to the cursory gazes she was receiving from some young noblemen that stood nearby, but from the way Wolf stiffened and gripped her hand tighter, she knew he noticed.

Thankfully, before he could do anything rashly protective, the trumpets blared, their short musical burst calling the court's attention to the large doors positioned just beyond a large staircase.

"Presenting Their Royal Majesties, King Carolos and Queen Arnia!"

As the herald's voice rang out over the assembled nobles, silencing the horns, the massive doors swung open, admitting the reigning monarchs. As one, all the court dropped into curtsies and bows, only rising from the various obsequious poses when the king and queen had traversed the length of the ballroom and taken their place before the throne on the raised dais.

Wincing at the feel of her slippers pinching as she rose from her curtsy—had reasonable footwear ever been an option when attending balls?—Winnie turned expectantly with the rest of the crowd as the trumpets sounding again, drawing every eye to the pair of figures poised within the doorway, looking as if they had just appeared from legend.

"Presenting His Highness, Prince Gregory of Loken, and his intended, Her Highness, Princess Roselyn of Loken!"

While the herald's voice soared above the crowd, he was unable to silence the nearly inaudible whispers that rippled through the nobles at the sight of their new princess, even as they bowed.

Winnie was unable to keep her eyes from her friend as she rose from her curtsey. For a moment, Roselyn looked nothing like the young woman she had known in Satuton, and Winnie felt as if she gazed upon a stranger that carried her friend's features.

Pride at her friend's accomplishments warmed Winifred unexpectedly, and she could not help the smile that rose unbidden to her lips. None of the nobles standing in awe of their new princess, whispering about her beauty and noble stature, would guess that she was the daughter of an innkeeper, once dreaming of dancing in a prince's arms and entertaining fantasies of commanding an entire kingdom.

Unexpected sorrow tempered the pride in her friend's accomplishments, and Winnie blinked. She knew that no matter what happened, Roselyn would not be returning to Satuton. What would happen to Aleinah? Winnie knew that Roselyn's mother would delight in claiming kin in the royal family, but what would she do without her eldest daughter to help run the inn and care for her younger siblings?

Seeming to sense her inner turmoil, Wolf slipped a hand through hers once again, bringing it to his lips. Looking into his warm amber eyes, Winnie felt some of her worry dissipate.

Caught up in each other's gaze, the two did not return to themselves until the musicians began a bright waltz. Blinking and shaking her head slightly, Winnie allowed Wolf to lead her to the dance floor.

Resting comfortably in Wolf's embrace as he led her around the dance floor, Winnie glanced around her, attempting to keep herself from gawking in wide-eyed wonder at the elegance around her. The nobles floated around them, dancing, socializing, many of them grouped around the new princess, eager to meet her.

For a moment, Winnie felt like an imposter, dressed in a noblewoman's clothes, feigning a title and attempting to fit in. With a surge of homesickness that she had not felt since the first night away from Parisa Forest, she wished to be away from the ball, from the glittering room, from the court intrigues she could hear spinning around her, gossip already formulating with the princess' arrival.

She longed to be back in the forest, in a quiet glade where the only noise was the slight babble of a stream or the wind dancing through the leaves as they spun through the air. She wished to hear the soft footfalls of a doe with her fawns, to watch a fox stalk a mouse through the brush, to smell nothing but the pure smells of the woodland, instead of the cloying and jumble of perfumes that seemed to choke her.

Winnie fidgeted slightly, pulling herself out of her memories of her home. Looking up, she found her gaze drawn to Lady Millicent of Hake, looking radiant in a pale green-and-cream gown that complimented both her hair and eyes.

Lady Millicent was watching Prince Gregory dance with his betrothed, gazing at Roselyn's obvious delight with naked hatred and jealousy.

Winnie shivered at the blatant expression of dislike, and as the musicians began a new song, she observed that Gregory whispered something to Roselyn, leaving her at the dais with his parents in order to stride to Millie's side before Roselyn had even given her consent.

A knot of unease began to form in Winnie's chest as she saw Gregory's blue eyes take on a softer, more affectionate glow than she had ever seen him bestow on Roselyn. Millie stepped eagerly into the prince's arms, heedless of the way his intended watched or the way that whispers began anew, the court taking notice of this new development.

The two moved to the center of the ballroom and began to dance, focusing on only each other and ignoring the way the other nobles drew back to give them space. Winnie turned her gaze to Roselyn, gauging her friend for a reaction to her prince's behavior.

Although Roselyn had clearly been taught to behave in court, she had not been yet instructed on how to mask her emotions while in view of others—a skill that would only come after many years spent within the twisting web of court intrigue.

The princess' blue eyes were wide with shock, and she seemed to tremble, clearly troubled by Gregory's actions. She seemed to collect herself after a moment, drawing herself up, raising her chin defiantly before retreating regally to the lesser throne that had been provided for her.

Winnie found her gaze drawn away from her friend's distress—perhaps by Fate. She found herself looking towards the queen, finding that the older woman wore an even more troubled and disturbed look than her future daughter-in-law.

Wolf had stiffened as well, sensing the impending trouble, and Winnie found herself following him wordlessly out into the gardens.

The gardens were infinitely quieter than the noisy ballroom, and the young woman gratefully took in the familiar scents of flowers and trees, following her companion to a quiet bench.

Sinking down, Wolf waited for her to join him and then turned his gaze towards the trees that marked the beginning of the royal hunting grounds, where the prince and king kept game used for sport.

Winnie could see his stiff posture outlined in the moonlight, and she placed a hand on his hard shoulder.

"Wolf?"

Slowly, he relaxed under her soft touch, his shoulders dropping as he exhaled heavily.

"Perhaps we should have not come."

"What?" Winnie stared at him incredulously, surprised by his quiet words. "What do you mean?"

The man's amber eyes were nearly silver in the light of the moon, and Winnie frowned at the sight of his face, set in serious lines, once again looking like an animal that has every right to be wary, sensing danger nearby.

"I told your grandmother I would go with you, to protect you," Wolf told her quietly, "and I know that you feel it is your duty to stay with Roselyn."

"It is," Winnie shot back, "she's my friend! She's getting married!"

Wolf sighed again, shaking his head. "Red, there is more here than just Roselyn's marriage. You saw the scene in there—" he jerked his head in the direction they had just come, indicating the ballroom. "Gregory has not made a decision."

"A decision?" Winnie echoed, confused. What did the prince have to do with it?

Wolf's eyes narrowed, and he was once again tense. "Gregory is torn between Roselyn and Lady Millicent."

Winnie shook her head. "He can't be. He's marrying Roselyn."

"Possibly against his will," Wolf countered. "I did not come here just to watch you become entangled in the court."

As she looked at him, Winnie suddenly discerned why he was so worried. "Do you really believe that?" She whispered, bringing a hand to brush against his cheek, feeling a familiar thrill of pleasure as he leaned into her touch.

"Wolf," she continued, "do you really believe I would fall in love with life here?"

Wolf squirmed uncomfortably, pinned beneath her demanding gaze. "You know I worry about you, Red," he told her huskily, leaning forward with a wicked grin to brush his thumb over her lips, causing her to shiver and distracting her easily.

"I miss home." Winnie's brown eyes were wide with yearning in the moonlight, and Wolf wished fervently that he could take her away in that instant, to use some ancient fairy magic and spirit them home, to the forest where they belonged.

"You would not be content here?" Wolf asked hopefully, drawing her into his arms. She came willingly, curling into his embrace.

Heedless of her carefully styled hair or now-wrinkled dress, Winnie pillowed her temple on his shoulder, shaking her head. "Are you worried that I'll meet some young noble and forget you?" she teased before soberly as Wolf tightened his arms around her, his fingers tracing the curve of her back.

"Nothing would terrify me more," the man answered in a low voice, and Winnie frowned, pleased in a small way that he would admit such a fear so freely, but strangely angered that he would think such of her.

Wolf held himself still, worried by Winnie's silence. Had he offended her by his truthful comment? He knew that if she ever showed interest in any of the young men that had been watching her appreciatively that evening in the ballroom, he would leave for Satuton and never look back. He had nearly lost her once, but if she willingly rejected him for another, he could do nothing about it.

His heart nearly stopped when she pushed herself away from him, and Wolf found her gazing up at him in….amusement?

"Satuton is my home," she told him quietly, a laugh nearly escaping her. "I could never be comfortable here."

Unable to contain his relief, Wolf pressed his lips to hers, a flash of pleasure racing through his veins as she curled into his embrace, wrapping her arms around his neck.

Drawing away, finding her breathing once again shallow, Winnie nestled her head on Wolf's shoulder, listening to his heart beat.

Wolf gave a low chuckle, similar to the one he had voiced earlier that evening and extracted himself from her embrace, standing smoothly. Turning to her, he extended his hand.

"We should return to the ball," he told her, "before I forget myself."

Everything within Winfred rebelled at the idea of returning to the crowded ballroom, and she lifted her pleading gaze to his.

"Can't we just return to my rooms?" She asked quietly, only catching the implication of her words and blushing when Wolf gave a strangled groan and turned a hungry gaze in her direction, his eyes flashing with more heat than she could ever remember seeing.

"Red…" The way Wolf's voice slid over her nickname made her shiver, warm heat rising from her belly to her face, spreading throughout her body.

"I…" Winnie trailed off weakly, but Wolf took her hand with a gentle smile that told her he understood, the heat still present in his amber eyes.

* * *

Stepping into her room, Winnie breathed a sigh of relief at the sight of her bed before turning to face Wolf. The man gazed at her hungrily, as if she were the only thing that could sate him.

Blushing, Winnie allowed herself to be drawn into his embrace willingly, automatically wrapping her arms around his neck to bring him closer. It took only a moment of suspended time before his lips were on hers again, soft and warm and urgent with a desire that she had only felt once before, the night that Wolf had proclaimed his love for her.

Claiming her mouth as his own, Wolf left no doubt that he still wanted her, groaning in the back of his throat as she boldly returned his advances. The groan tapered into a possessive growl as Winnie pulled away briefly to press light kisses to his jaw, her breath coming faster as he returned the favor, allowing his lips to brush against the soft skin of her throat.

Pulling away with difficulty, Winnie attempted to breathe deeply, feeling light-headed, her senses full of Wolf and her body humming with a desperate desire. Looking up, she found Wolf gazing over her shoulder, towards her bed. There was a heated question in his gaze as he took in her bedchamber, and his gaze flitted back towards her, gaining a most lustful heat as he brushed the gentle pad of his thumb over her swollen lips.

Winnie hesitated, knowing that he would never press his invitation. The choice was hers alone, but she still paused. There was something wrong with the setting, she decided. It should not be done in this castle, not where she already felt nervous attempting to fit in as a noblewoman.

No, she could only allow him into her bed when she felt perfectly safe. Sighing in disappointment, for she could not deny that the desirous heat beneath her skin caused her mind to grow hazy, every nerve clamoring that she allow Wolf to continue.

Pressing her lips to his cheek in a gentle good-night kiss, Winnie did not miss the disappointment that tempered the heat in Wolf's gaze. Instead, he gave her a wry smile and pressed her hand to his lips.

"Good night, Red," he murmured, turning away towards his own rooms.

Closing the door behind him, Winifred leaned her forehead against the smooth wood and tried to quell her disappointment. Finding herself trembling, she tried to push away the desire that still raged through her body.

"So, _that's_ why you were missing from the ball."

With a yelp of surprise, Winnie whirled around, glaring as she found Roselyn, dressed for bed, watching her with a wicked grin.

"None of your business," she snapped, strangely irritable. Roselyn continued to smirk deviously, looking smug, and Winnie stalked away from her friend to begin undressing, letting the formal gown carelessly fall to the floor in order to don a looser and more comfortable nightgown.

"Why are you here?" Winnie found herself wondering she pulled the nightgown over her head. "Is the ball over?"

"Yes," Roselyn murmured, sounding troubled about something.

"What's wrong?" Winnie turned to her friend, her irrational anger forgotten at the sight of her friend's worried expression.

Biting her lip, Roselyn made her way back into her bedchamber, Winnie padding after her on bare feet, her face drawn into a frown of concern.

"Gregory told me tonight that I must prove myself worthy as a princess," Roselyn said baldly, her chin trembling as she sat on her bed, knotting her hands in her lap in a familiar gesture of nervousness.

"Prove yourself?" Winnie echoed, raising an eyebrow in surprise as the princess nodded towards the maid that hovered nearby, holding a tray with a goblet of wine balanced upon it. The maid set the goblet down on the small table near the princess and left the room at a wave of Roselyn's dismissive hand.

Roselyn made a face as she cradled the fine goblet in her hands, raising her gaze to Winnie's and blushing under her friend's curious stare.

"Gregory told me that it would help me sleep, and make sure that I would not be woken in the night by the strange sounds of the castle," Roselyn explained, her lips tucking into a bashful smile at the thought of her intended.

Suddenly, Roselyn stopped contemplating her wine, and her narrow blue gaze flashed towards Winnie, worry and suspicion crowding her eyes.

"Did you see the way Gregory danced with Lady Millicent?" She asked in a whisper, as if voicing it aloud would confirm her worst fears.

Winnie bit her lip, averting her gaze, unable to stop the images of Millicent's affectionate gaze as Gregory held her, the way the prince seemed more comfortable in her presence, and the way the queen had seemed concerned.

Roselyn seemed to take her friend's silence as agreement, and her eyes took on a shadowed cast, worry and concern lining her face, making her seem older than the girl she was. "He danced with us equally," she murmured, her fingers tightening around the goblet. Her face was full of concern as she glanced up at Winnie, desperate for a reassuring answer. "Should I be worried?"

Supressing her own worry and dodging the question, Winnie asked, "How do you have to prove yourself?"

"Oh." Roselyn sat back, the worry in her eyes morphing into a nervousness that bordered on terror. "Gregory told me that there will be a series of mock councils that I must attend, in order to learn about the kingdom and prove that I can handle power."

Placing a hand on the other woman's cold one, Winnie sought to reassure her. "Of course you know how to handle power. You can rule fairly. You always settled your younger siblings' fights fairly, remember?"

"Perhaps." Roselyn didn't look entirely convinced, but she seemed to contemplate Winnie's encouragement. Yawning, she settled fully into her bed, lifting the goblet of wine to her lips. Finishing it quickly and placing it back on the small table, she blinked at Winnie sleepily, suddenly looking content, as if her fears of moments before had been instantly wiped from her mind.

With a quiet "good night," Winifred retreated to her own room, curling into her bed and refusing to allow herself to think of the extra warmth she would have with Wolf at her side.

* * *

Someone was shaking her awake, Winnie realized, reminded of the time Roselyn had woken her for midnight dress fittings. Disturbed by memories of Reynard Manor, she sat up, blinking blurrily at the maid who recoiled instantly, looking abashed and strangely terrified.

"I apologize for waking you, Lady Winifred," the maid babbled, her fear getting the best of her, "but the princess cannot be roused."

Winnie frowned, her sluggish brain slow to comprehend information after a long night with so many things to contemplate.

"Won't wake?" She questioned, and the main shook her head frantically, rushing towards the adjoining door as Winnie swung her legs out of bed and followed slowly.

Making her way into Roselyn's room, Winnie was immediately disturbed by the eerie silence that seemed to hang over it, the peaceful atmosphere of sleep absent.

Something was not right.

Hurrying over to Roselyn's side, Winnie pushed her hair out of her face and peered down at her friend.

The princess lay still in her bed, nearly as a white as the silk sheets beneath her.

Winnie's breath caught at the sight, terror rising within her. Except for the slightest rise and fall of her chest, Roselyn appeared to be dead.

* * *

 **A/N: Reviews are always appreciated!**


	15. Presence and Presents

**A/N: I have a late night present for you, since I'll be busy tomorrow morning and I wanted to make sure you guys got this update. Enjoy!**

* * *

Chapter 15: Presence and Presents

Winnie's breath returned to her in a burning rush as she realized that Roselyn still lived, the shallowest rise and fall of the princess's chest betraying the spark of life.

"Fetch the court physician!" She ordered of the frightened maid. The woman looked immensely relieved to be performing some task instead of watching over the still body of her new princess, and she quickly fled from the room.

Winnie settled on the edge of the bed, smoothing Roselyn's wayward curls away from her face and frowning. "Roselyn, wake up!"

There was no response from the woman on the bed, and Winnie shook her head, praying to Fate that the court physician would arrive quickly.

He did, only minutes later, a young man with gray eyes that glowed with urgency. "Please move away from the princess," he murmured quietly as he moved swiftly to the side of the bed, setting down a cloth bag.

"Did she feel ill last night?" The physician asked, raking his dark hair out of his face and examining Roselyn's pulse points, discerning that she still lived.

Winnie shook her head, mystified. "She looked healthy," she replied, and the physician echoed her movement, frowning.

Footsteps sounded, and another person burst into the room, ignoring the maid's adamant attempts to deny him entrance.

The physician swung around, scowling at the intruder. "Sir, this is the princess's bedchamber. You have no right—"

Wolfgang Lothar ignored the healer as well, shooting him a venomous glare before moving to stand behind Winnie, placing his hands on her shoulders. Leaning back into his embrace, Winnie closed her eyes. Although fear for Roselyn was still the prominent emotion clouding her mind, she could not deny the feeling of safety she felt in Wolf's presence.

"Are you hurt?"

Winnie shook her head. "I'm fine. Roselyn's won't wake."

The physician had turned away from them in annoyance, and stood staring at the empty goblet that still rested on the small table.

"Did she take this?"

There was a strange note in the healer's tone that set Winnie on edge, but she answered honestly. "She was given that wine last night. The prince himself told her that it would help her sleep, since she was new to the palace."

Nodding absentmindedly, the physician leaned forward and grasped the goblet, lifting it up so he could peer at it. Inspecting it carefully, he lifted it to his nose, inhaling the contents.

The goblet clattered to the floor as the physician blanched, causing Winnie and Wolf to startle. Gripping the edges of the table next to the bed, the healer swung around to face them, his pale face contorted in horror, his gray eyes wide.

"It seems," he said shakily, attempting to regain his composure by rummaging through his supplies, "that someone slipped more sleeping draught into this wine than was necessary."

Crushing several leaves into a pulp and placing it into a wooden cup, turning the mixture into a liquid with the help of water, the young physician poured the concoction down the throat of the unconscious princess, watching nervously.

When Roselyn did nothing, the physician sighed in relief and turned to Winnie. "She will sleep for a few hours more, my lady," he told her, "but she will awaken."

"Thank you," Winnie replied, settling into a chair on the other side of the room, determined to sit a vigil.

Nodding, the physician departed, looking troubled.

Roselyn continued to sleep.

* * *

Lady Millicent allowed herself the smallest of smug smiles as she watched her prince pace the length of the room. She was not supposed to be at this council meeting, but Gregory had asked her to attend, in order to assist Roselyn. Millie did not particularly care for council meetings, but she knew that the new princess would not be attending.

Gregory continued to pace, his advisers watching him nervously. They must start the meeting soon, for the king demanded their attention in a council about the kingdom in only a few hours.

"Where is she?" The crown prince glanced anxiously towards the doors, but his bride-to-be did not appear.

Sending a servant to find the princess did no good; the man came back with the news that Roselyn was still sleeping. Millie saw the way Gregory frowned at the information, disturbed by the apparent laziness of his bride, and she ducked her head, hoping that her delighted smile would not give her away.

Sensing that the council members around her were growing uneasy, Millie turned to her lover, daring to stand and go to him, taking his hands in hers and drawing him to a stop.

"Your Highness," she said quietly, "your advisers have other engagements. Would you allow me to stand as proxy to the princess?"

Millie could see that Gregory had his doubts about allowing her to stand in for his bride, but he knew that she had made her point well. Tersely, he nodded, throwing himself in his chair, looking disgruntled.

"Begin." He ordered shortly, and Millie could not keep the triumphant smirk from her face as she settled herself at his side.

* * *

Hours later, Winnie was just returning from exploring the gardens when Roselyn began to stir. Frowning, Winnie hurried forward, worried as Roselyn groaned and pressed a hand to her forehead, blinking in the bright afternoon sunlight that filtered through the high windows.

"Winnie?" She mumbled sleepily, frowning at the sight of her friend. "Why are you not wearing a dress?"

Taken aback, Winnie glanced down at her clothes and back towards the other woman. "You know I don't wear dresses when I don't have to."

"But," Roselyn protested, sounding more awake, "you are my companion. You should be dressed according to your station."

"My _station_?" Winnie glared at her friend. Roselyn slept for hours, and this is what she chose to discuss when she woke? "Roselyn, you know as well as I do that I have no station."

"You could," Roselyn corrected firmly, rubbing her eyes as the sunlight hit them, momentarily blinding her. "I could make you part of the court."

"I don't _want_ to be part of the court," Winnie hissed, stalking towards her room, wishing more than ever that she could go home.

"Why is it so bright?" Roselyn mumbled behind her, yawning and rubbing the sleep from her eyes. "How long did I sleep?"

"It is two hours past noon," Winnie answered curtly, whirling around as Roselyn shrieked behind her.

The princess bolted from her bed, swaying on her feet as she stumbled towards her wardrobe, her face white with shock and mortification.

"The council!" She wailed, tearing open the oaken doors of the cabinet and allow the dresses to spill onto the floor. Winnie watched as Roselyn tossed each one aside, searching through ball gowns for a simpler dress.

"You've missed it," Winnie said gently, taking her friend by the arms and gently pulling her away from the pile of clothing. Roselyn's face crumpled, and she began to sob quietly.

The red-headed woman assisted her princess back into bed, her brown eyes warm with sympathy. "I'm sorry."

* * *

"How could you?" Millie could hardly remembered seeing her cousin so incensed, even when they were younger and she had delighted in stealing his toys.

Hawkins faced her, his gray eyes blazing, furious. "Did you know what could have happened?" He spat, glaring at her.

Millicent leaned back in her chair, confident that no one could hear her in her cousin's cramped and private quarters. "Of course," she told him calmly, smoothing imaginary wrinkles out of her dress.

Millie watched her cousin's expression in amusement. Hawkins grew pale, his gray eyes glittering in horror, and the prince's lover idly wondered if he would faint.

"You knew what would happen?" Hawkins asked in a strangled voice, incredulous. "Millie, how much of that sleeping draught did you put into her wine?"

Millicent gave him a wicked grin, her green eyes aglow with something akin to madness. "Nearly a quarter of it," she answered flippantly, as if she had just done something clever.

Hawkins stared at his older cousin in shock, horrified. "You're mad," he spluttered, backing away. "You're mad, and I will not help you kill the princess."

Lady Millicent had the court physician pinned against the wall with a blade to his throat before the younger man could understand what was happening.

"Think what you like," she hissed, her green eyes holding his gray ones, mesmerizing him and causing him to freeze in fear, "but I will succeed. The prince has been fool enough to place two hounds in his cage, but I will be victorious."

Docile once again, Millie backed away, storing the blade in her bodice. Hawkins found himself shaking from head to toe, his mind spinning, unsure of what had just transpired.

He stood steady as he looked Lady Millicent in the eyes, hating the way he inwardly flinched away from her commanding gaze. "I cannot help you any longer," he said softly, hoping his conviction was still evident despite the way his voice shook.

Millicent stood, looking every inch the queen she planned to be. "Do as you like," she hissed spitefully.

As she swept from the room, Hawkins waited for several minutes, breathing heavily, grateful to escape his cousin with his life.

Hurrying towards the archives, the young physician decided that it would be a good time to finally discover if madness ran in his family.

* * *

Winnie sighed in frustration, pacing the maze-like paths of the royal gardens. For weeks, she had tried to discover who had slipped the sleeping draught into Roselyn's wine, but she had been unsuccessful. Pulling her cloak closer as she turned another corner, Winnie shivered at the feel of the fall breeze. It had been late spring when she had left Parisa Forest, and she felt another wave of homesickness swamp her, more and more frequent as the months in Ibbot stretched on continuously.

Roselyn—much to her chagrin and her betrothed's annoyance—had missed three more council meetings over the last two months, once again victim to a heavy sleeping potion that caused her to slumber until long after midday. The meetings that the princess had managed to attend had reportedly gone well, and Winnie tried to remain hopeful, for her friend's sake.

* * *

Wolfgang Lothar once again contemplated the wooden box that rested in his hands. The last time he had held it, he had been about to cast it into the flames, despairing of ever earning Winnie's requited affections. Now, he was nearly certain of having them, despite Winnie never voicing a declaration of her own.

Winifred's birthday approached in the next week, and Wolf wondered if he would be bold enough to give her the box and its contents as a gift. Would she appreciate it, or would she remember a more recent gift and reject it?

Shaking his head and deciding not to tempt Fate, Wolf set the box aside, once again storing it in his bags, making sure it was hidden. Perhaps the bustling marketplace would allow him to find the perfect gift.

Melting into the crowd, Wolf felt a rush of pleasure at being nothing more than an anonymous face. While he would normally want attention, he felt as if he received too much of it at the castle. Although he enjoyed the chance to strengthen his acting skills by pretending to be a nobleman, Wolf did miss the life he had left behind: a quiet town where he was judged by words and actions, not titles and riches.

Various vendors hawked their wares, but Wolf passed most of the jewel stands by. The son of the village blacksmith and jewelry-maker, he had known almost since childhood how to discern good metal-craft from cheap tricks.

A sharp yelp drew his attention down towards the docks, where several stands were set up. A large crowd had gathered, but that was to be expected; most of the men at these docks made their money by selling folk exotic animals that had come from strange lands.

The yelp morphed into a snarl, and Wolf saw many of the people knew the front draw back, murmuring anxiously. The man selling the animal—whatever it was—was clearly a sailor, with a weather-beaten face and eyes as blue as the sea that stretched on behind him.

"Who will give me money for this fine animal?" He cried, beckoning several people forward. "Don't be afraid, the beast is quite tame!"

Forcing his way to the front of the crowd, Wolf caught a glimpse of the animal the sailor was attempting and felt his heart twist sharply with unexpected pity.

Crouching in the bottom of its small cage and glaring out at the people with amber eyes nearly the same shade of Wolfgang's, the half-grown wolf puppy snarled at all who dared to come near, including its captor.

Although its fur was dirty and matted, Wolf could still discern the color: a deep russet, a red-brown that was nearly the color of the falling leaves in the palace gardens. With a cream underbelly, chest and muzzle, the canine was a handsome one, and Wolfgang knew he could not walk away from the plucky animal that knew itself to be in a trap but still continued to fight. A silver chain around its neck attested to it capture, but the pup's spirit did not appear to be broken; its eyes were clear, and it watched its surroundings warily, waiting for an escape.

Once, years ago, when Wolfgang had first discovered his talents of mimicry, his father had taken him into Parisa Forest to test his son's skills on the local fauna.

"Son," Adam Lothar had told his young child quietly as they entered the forest, "if you can fool an animal into thinking that you are kin, you can fool any man."

Eager and excited, Wolf had quickly mastered birdcall, but his father did not seem impressed when his young son had called several birds to him at once.

"Birds are simple creatures, Wolf," Adam murmured, watching the birds take wing as his son got to his feet, crestfallen. "You must convince a creature with more cunning."

They had walked deer paths for hours, searching for an animal with which to test Wolf's abilities. Young Wolfgang had grown tired as well as slightly frightened as the shadows in the forest lengthened and the sun began to set.

Just as he was about to complain, to ask his father if they could return home for dinner, Adam Lothar had raised a hand and turned towards his left, listening intently. Wolf obediently stilled, following his father as the older Lothar wound his way into the deepening twilight.

As they drew closer to their destination, Wolf could hear the soft sound of water tripping over rocks, signaling a nearby stream. Over the sound of water, there was a distinct sound of…growling?

Young Wolf stared in amazement at the four wolf puppies that tumbled over themselves on the bank of the stream. Hardly out of the den, they wrestled playfully, tugging on tails and ears and paws with delighted yips and snarls. An adult—perhaps their mother or just another from the pack—watched them carefully, its ears twitching back and forth with the sounds of the darkening forest.

After watching for several silent minutes, Adam Lothar leaned over to his son, who had been watching the puppies, enraptured, barely breathing.

"Do you have it?" He breathed to his son, and Wolfgang nodded in response, uttering a low yip that sounded as if it came from the muzzle of one of the pups playing just beyond the bush they sheltered behind.

As one, all four heads rose, the young wolves staring towards the bush in curiosity. The adult raised its head as well, gazing towards the bush and scenting the wind. One of the pups made a bold leap forward, yelping as it almost tumbled into the stream, but before its siblings could follow, the adult intervened.

Clearly catching the scent of humans, the wolf ushered the pups into the den, sitting guard over the entrance and nudging the protesting pups back in when they attempted to escape, intent on finishing their play.

"Well done." Young Wolf glanced up, his amber eyes glowing at his father's quiet praise, and he followed his father out of the woods, remembering the way the wolves had responded to his call.

"That's a wolf!" The worried call brought Wolfgang Lothar back to the present, and he glanced over his shoulder to find a father sheltering his young son in his arms, watching the caged animal warily. "It's dangerous!"

"No, no!" The sailor protested, placing his hand into the cage and attempting the stroke the animal. The wolf puppy cowered away from the hand that was thrust towards it, but tolerated the touch, snarling all the while. "He just has to be taught who his _maliver_ , who his master is!"

"How much for the pup?" Wolf asked quietly, leaning forward to examine the animal. If the pup was as tame as the sailor claimed, he might make a good present for Winnie, as well as an excellent guard.

The sailor eyed the strange man that watched the wolf pup calmly, his amber eyes eerily similar to that of the animal. "Fifty marks, no less."

"Will he be faithful to his master?" The stranger wanted to know, and the crowd hushed, wondering if the man would be mad enough to buy the savage beast.

The sailor stared at the man disdainfully. "Once this animal knows his master, he will serve no one else."

Wolf considered the animal before him, drawing closer. The wolf puppy watched him with the same distrust as it did the crowd, but it did not increase the volume of its snarl, even softening it to a growl.

The sailor raised his gaze to the wolf-eyed man, wondering if the man was a fairy in disguise. "The beast likes you," he observed. "If you must know," he confided in a low voice as the stranger drew closer, "this beast is not true wolf. He's the bastard of a wolf and a common dog. I was told by his original keeper that his name is _Faolan_ , meaning _guardian_ in his language."

Wolf absorbed the man's words but gave no response, concentrating on the pup, allowing the crooning growl to rumble through his chest, certain that the young animal could hear it even if the sailor could not.

On subsequent visits to the wolves' den, Wolf had discovered that females used a soft, soothing growling that tapered into a humming croon as they lulled their pups to sleep. Wolf had enjoyed the sound so much that he had perfected it, once luring a pup towards him long enough for it to allow him to stroke it, comforted by the safe sound he emitted.

The wolf pup stared up at Wolf curiously, its hackles flattening and the growl dying completely as he took in the sound that was emanating from the man. The crowd gasped as the man knelt before the cage, placing his hand confidently through the bars and stroking the pup from head to tail. The young wolf made no move to snap at the man that stroked him, and he even sank to his belly, looking content.

Ignoring the whispers that floated on the breeze behind him, Wolf detached a small purse from his belt and extracted a few coins before tossing it to the man, confident that it was right amount.

After inspecting the coins, the sailor lifted the latch on the cage, handing Wolf a leather strap as the man rose to his feet.

"You might need this," the sailor advised.

The wolf-eyed man ignored him, and the sailor watched, wide-eyed with the rest of the crowd as the stranger reached into the cage, lifting the puppy into his arms, still humming something under his breath.

To the amazement of all, the wild animal gave no resistance to the treatment, and the stranger disappeared into the crowd, the wolf pup cradled in his arms.

The sailor shook his head. _Faeries._ As the crowd around him began to whisper about what had just happened before him, the sailor smiled. He would have a story to tell when he once again sailed the seas.

* * *

Millie curled farther into Gregory's arms, as she could escape her problems merely by disappearing into his embrace.

"What's wrong?" The prince's voice was low and husky above her, and Millie looked up, attempting to give him a tremulous smile.

"How is your princess?"

Gregory frowned at the question, annoyed that his lover would bring up his betrothed when they were together. He pressed his lips to her blonde hair, wishing that he could do the right thing. However, the right thing involved abandoning his oldest friend and recent lover in order to learn to love a woman he barely knew and who had been chosen for him.

No, he could not do that.

Millie felt Gregory tense beneath her, and she sat up, staring down at him, finding that guilt pricked her as she thought of the princess—something that had never happened before.

"Gregory…" she began nervously, lowering herself back into his arms, pillowing her face in his shoulder so she would not have to look at him as he answered her, "whom would you choose?"

The prince gave a dark chuckle as he contemplated the woman lying next to him, his blue eyes heavy with choices he didn't wish to make. "Beloved, never ask me that before the entire court. You may not like the answer."

"Whom?" Millie insisted on an answer, unsure why she desperately needed one.

"You." Gregory answered with conviction, pressing his lips to hers, his arms wrapping around her securely. "It was always you."

"If I harmed the princess," Millie pressed, pulling away to watch him soberly, "whom would you choose?"

The prince considered her for a moment, and then his blue eyes darkened. "I love you," he told her solemnly. "Nothing could change that."

Perhaps Millie should have pressed for an answer, but she was content with the sincerity she saw in her lover's gaze. However, the prince soon distracted her.

"Darling," Gregory whispered, pressing light kisses against her neck, "the night is still young…"

* * *

Winifred Nimble burst through the doors of her room, tearing the heavy dress from her slim frame before the doors had fully closed behind her. The maids currently cleaning the room left immediately upon spotting the lady's murderous expression, knowing what would happen if they stayed.

Throwing open the doors of her wardrobe with more force than was strictly necessary, Winnie rummaged through its contents, carelessly tossing aside fine dresses in order to find the clothes she was most comfortable in.

Retrieving a wrinkled pair of black pants from the bottom of the wardrobe and slipping them on, Winnie searched for her favorite shirt, growling curses under her breath when she could not find it. Settling for a simple white one, Winnie flopped onto her bed, loose strands of her red hair fanning out over her face, biting back tears, wondering if it was against the law to feel so miserable on her birthday.

Though she meant Roselyn meant well, Winnie fumed, she had not anticipated being subjected to hours of court gossip while the other ladies sewed. Winnie was a fair hand at embroidery, but she was not used to such vicious gossip. Roselyn seemed to delight in it all, often turning to Winnie with an encouraging smile, as if her friend should be enjoying it as well.

While Winnie was grateful for the jeweled pendant Roselyn had given her that morning, she had escaped at the first possible opportunity, pretending that she had to visit the privy as the maids brought in food. Slipping away proved to be easy, and Winnie had wasted no time returning to her room.

A quick knock on the door sent a grumbling Winnie to her feet, and the woman walked across the room reluctantly, convinced that Roselyn had sent a servant after her.

Wrenching upon the door, Winnie found an empty corridor facing her. When something brushing against her pant leg brought her gaze downward, Winnie yelped in surprised and stumbling backwards.

The young wolf trotted happily into her room, coming to a stop at her feet as if she had been the thing he had been seeking.

Finding that the russet creature would not attack, Winnie crouched down, delighted when the pup did not shy from her touch but seemed to derive pleasure from it, nuzzling against her hand.

"Who do you belong to?" Winnie wondered, scratching behind the wolf pup's ears and laughing when he responded by shaking his head. For the first time, Winnie noticed the silver chain around his neck. The young animal clearly was well-fed and well-loved.

"He belongs to you." Winnie sat back on her heels and landed ungracefully on the stone floor as Wolfgang Lothar stepped into the room, pulling the door shut behind him. In one hand, he held a bowl full of what appeared to be raw meat. In the other, he held Winnie's forest green shirt.

"What?" Winnie asked, unable to articulate more than that.

Wolf smirked at her silence, lowering himself to the floor next to him and offering her the bowl of raw meat. "Here. He has to be fed by you."

Bewildered, Winifred obediently took the raw strips and fed it to the eager young pup in her lap.

"What's his name?" She asked quietly, stroking him with one hand while she fed him with the other.

"His name is Faolan." Wolf replied, reaching out to pet the pup as well. Although Faolan had accepted Winnie easily as his owner, Wolf was his savior, and he accepted the man's touch.

"He's mine?"

Wolf smirked at Winnie's incredulous question, amused by the way she sounded like a child. "Yes, Red, he's yours."

Setting the bowl down on the floor, Winnie directed Faolan to eat his fill before flinging herself towards the man next to him, catching him off-guard and sending them both tumbling to the floor.

Wolf grinned up at her, his amber eyes glowing. "I take it that you like him, Red?"

"Thank you," Winnie murmured, unable to keep the smile from her face.

Wolf smirked at her as he wound his hands into her hair. "There are other ways of thanking me, Red."

Winnie smirked in return, pressing her lips against his. For a moment, she seemed to have control, but then Wolf took over, his tongue flickering against her lips before claiming her mouth, his hands exploring the contours of her back.

A sudden weight against Winnie's side caused her to slide off Wolf and tumble to the floor, looking up to find a russet-and-cream wolf-dog above her, pressing his cold nose to her cheek.

Wolf chuckled as he got to his feet, nudging Faolan away so he could pull Winnie to her feet. "I'd say he wants to play."

* * *

Yelping in surprise as Faolan leaped neatly over her and attempted to snag the rolled shirt out of her hands, Winnie tossed the makeshift toy to Wolf, who caught it easily and allowed the pup to chew at his hands in order to get it.

"Help! Help!" A noblewoman's shriek from a nearby garden path made both pause, and Faolan flattened his ears at the burst of noise, abandoning the ball at Wolf's feet in order to plant himself in front of Winnie, intent on making his small form seem larger, already attempting to protect his master.

"She's being attacked by a wolf!" Winnie looked up to find a noblewoman, followed by her maid, gazing from her to Faolan in horror, calling for the guards.

The small dogs that yapped at the ends of their leashes caught Faolan's attention. He lowered his head, snarling at the small animals that seemed like nothing more than annoying mice.

"There's nothing wrong!" Winnie called back desperately, reaching down to grip Faolan's chain collar. "Faolan," she warned in a low voice, and to her surprise, the wolf-dog stopped snarling, deigning instead to drop to his haunches, panting and looking like a normal dog.

"You'll protect me, won't you?" Winnie whispered to the young wolf at her feet as the noblewoman moved away in disgust, muttering about the folly of strangers.

"He will, Red, never doubt that." Wolf's reassurance was quiet in the twilit gardens, and Winnie leaned against him as he wrapped an arm around her waist.

Winnie was quiet as she looked out over the expansive grounds. Faolan, reassured that a threat no longer remained, began to play with his toy again, but Winnie bit her lip as she watched him.

He would grow larger, she knew. The wolf-dog was still a young pup, and she could not see him confined to these gardens for his entire life. She imagined him racing through the trees of Parisa Forest, returning to her side as night fell.

As if he sensed her thoughts, Wolf pressed his lips to her temple, pulling her closer as the sun began to dip below the horizon.

"Don't worry, Red. We'll be home soon."

* * *

 **A/N: Reviews are always appreciated!**


	16. Events Unforseen

**A/N: Welcome to chapter 16, and thank you to all who have followed this story and reviewed!**

* * *

Chapter 16: Events Unforeseen

"What is _that_?"

The princess's friend and lady companion frowned and knelt, caressing the fur of the beast at her feet gently, frowning up at her future monarch. The princess knew that the woman on the floor was one of the few people in the castle that could escape punishment for doing such a thing, but she was too distracted by the wild animal staring at her curiously, its russet tail waving happily as it attempted to sniff her skirts, to rebuke her friend.

"He's my-" Winnie hesitated, staring at Faolan as he attempted to pull away from her and greet Roselyn. _Pet_ seemed like an unsuitable word, so she settled for something more appropriate. "He's my companion," she said finally, "and I have finally taught him that you are no threat to me. You should greet him and let him know you mean no harm."

Roselyn frowned at her friend's commanding statement, smoothing down the skirts of her dress. She was hesitant to kneel on the floor, and it was not only nervousness that made her wary. Every rule she adhered to demanded that she not place herself on the floor, for it was undignified.

Settling for sitting on her bed, the princess held her hands out to the animal, trying to halt the trembling that betrayed her uncertainty.

Fortunately, the wolf pup bounded up to her and nuzzled her hands, leaning against her skirts. Hesitantly, Roselyn stroked the animal, pleased to find that he did not attempt to harm her.

"Rose?"

Winnie's use of her childhood nickname startled the princess, and she looked up, her blue eyes wide with shock. It had been years since Winifred had used such intimate terms when speaking, and Roselyn wasn't sure what to make of it.

"What's wrong?" Winnie's concerned query was softly spoken, with the weight of a friend's worry behind it. Roselyn turned away from her friend's steady brown gaze, seeking answers she could not give.

 _What was wrong? She dared to ask what was wrong?_ Roselyn gritted her teeth and lifted her chin, determined to keep her composure, even in their private rooms. She was a princess now, and she would act as a princess at all times.

Clenching her fists into the material of her dress, bunching it into wrinkles that would have to be pressed out later, Roselyn stared over Winnie's head, her gaze growing unfocused.

It had been several months since they had arrived at the palace, and Roselyn had begun to find reason that she was danger of losing the prince's love. Gregory had ignored her advances every time they were alone, and when they attended councils together, he barely paid her attention.

It was for Gregory's sake that she tried to behave as a princess should, participating in ladylike activities and appearing at his side whenever he asked for her. His mother clearly enjoyed her company, but Roselyn wished that she could spend more time with her betrothed.

Instead, the prince preferred to spend his time with his friend, the Lady Millicent of Hake.

Roselyn refused to contemplate what that might mean.

"Rose?" Winnie's soft voice penetrated her disturbing thoughts, and the princess looked down at the young woman seated before her, stroking the head of her wild companion.

Roselyn felt, with a certainty that terrified her, that she could not confide in Winnie. Her friend wanted no part of court intrigues—Winifred had made that clear, and Roselyn was not about to burden her friend with problems that the other woman did not want to hear. The princess knew she was losing her only confidant, but the thought did not terrify her as it might have long ago.

Winnie would return to their home in Satuton, barely changed by her experiences, but Roselyn could never return. Wistfully, Roselyn thought of the inn where she had grown up, where her younger siblings would mature without her guidance, where her mother would have to hire new barmaids with her gone.

Roselyn would remain in Ibbot, married to man who may no longer love her, ruling a kingdom she was still learning about. The hopelessness of the situation struck her harder than before, now that she had allowed herself to dwell on it, and the princess looked away from her oldest friend, shaking as tears crowded her eyes.

 _Rueben_.

The one, fleeting, traitorous thought of the man who had shown interest in her for however short a time propelled Roselyn to her feet, twitching her skirts away from Faolan's questing nose and causing her to lift her chin defiantly, ignoring Winnie's frown of serious concern.

 _Gregory, not Rueben. You are to be princess of Loken._

"If you excuse me," Roselyn told her companion icily, walking towards the door, glad her retreat meant that Winnie could not longer see her face, "I am expected in another council."

She did not wait for Winfred's answer, leaving Winnie puzzling over her strange behavior long after she had vanished.

* * *

Wolf turned down a familiar alley, a smile lifting his lips as he shook his head. No doubt his friends would be surprised to see him, but with Winnie constantly keeping Roselyn company, worried about the person that seemed to want to cause the princess harm, he had very little to do around the palace.

Instead, he had decided to enjoy the anonymity of Ibbot's crowded streets, and it was how he had found his current form of relaxation. Stopping before a door that was striped with blue and white, Wolf causally slipped inside the building.

Upon exploring the theater district several weeks ago, Wolf had discovered that Abigail Allen's name opened many doors. Not many theaters were sympathetic to an aspiring actor, but once Wolfgang had mentioned that he had studied with the woman who had once made Ibbot the center of theater arts, not one theater manager turned him away.

It was purely by accident that Wolf had stumbled upon The Petal, one of the lesser theaters in the district, but he had been drawn by the actors. He had seen one of their plays out of curiosity, and had been struck by the passion the players had for the work they were performing. None of the actors onstage were paid any large sum of money for the performances they gave—they did it because they truly enjoyed their craft.

"Wolfgang! Back again?"

Aaron passed by the familiar face with his arms full of props, a delighted grin on his face. "If you're here, make yourself useful," he advised, nodding towards the wooden table, strewn with props that still needed to be moved into a large cabinet that stood open, the shelves already half-full.

"What's happening?" Wolf gathered several fake flowers into his arms and transferred them to the cabinet, worried by the way the atmosphere seemed to vibrate with an air of expectancy, as if the whole theater waited for some momentous occasion.

Aaron's hazel eyes were serious as he paused at the table, grasping the edges of the wooden top, betraying his worry.

"Word is," he lowered his voice so Wolf had to lean in to hear him, "that the prince and his mistress are coming to see a play tomorrow night. The boss is frantic to get everything ready."

Wolf blanched at the news, the word "mistress" the only thing he could comprehend. "Mistress?" He repeated incredulously. "The prince doesn't have a mistress, only a bride to be."

Aaron shook his head slowly. "I shouldn't go around tellin' secrets, but it's hardly secret here. The whole company knows. The boss' daughter is a maid at the palace," he confided. "And she came here the other day, all flustered cause she saw Lady Millicent leavin' the prince's room in the afternoon, with no care for secrecy!"

Wolf frowned, unwilling to believe what his friend was telling him. "I didn't think you were one for gossip, Aaron."

"Isn't gossip," Aaron insisted. "I'm not one for tellin' tales, but I'd trust Jess with my life. She doesn't lie."

Wolf bowed his head, as if studying the table top in order to memorize its scarred surface. "This is not good."

Aaron snorted. "You're tellin' me. Carter is fixin' to fire all of us if the set isn't complete by sundown."

Wolf shook his head. He wasn't referring to the manager, but Aaron could not know how the news he had just imparted would change things in the castle.

Clapping a hand on Aaron's shoulder, Wolf gave him a tight smile. "Apologize to Lizzie for me," he told the older man. "I have to get back."

"Everythin' all right?" Aaron asked, concerned by Wolfgang's abrupt change of tone. The man looked as if he was preparing for a battle he wasn't sure he could win.

"Wolfgang, did you really think you could sneak away without greeting me?" A saucy female voice purred behind the two, and Wolf wheeled around, smiling in genuine welcome at the woman that approached them.

"Lizzie," he greeted her happily, striding forward to brush the costume designer's cheek with a kiss. "Do you have the designs for me?"

"Of course," the designer replied, raising a dark eyebrow and drawing several sheets of paper from her pocket. "I couldn't fail you."

"Thank you," Wolf returned fervently as he tucked the papers away. "This will help."

The woman laughed, her green eyes bright in the backstage gloom. "And these designs will help you win your ladylove?"

"With luck," Wolf replied, sending a silent prayer to Fate that it would.

Aaron was watching the two, his eyebrow raised skeptically. "You have some strange notions."

Wolf gave a sharp bark of laughter and then sobered as he remembered what awaited him at the palace. "Thank you again, Lizzie," he said quietly, bringing the woman's hand to his lips in a gentle kiss of gratitude.

The older woman watched the young actor stride away, then turned to her husband. "What has him rushing off?" She wondered, leaning against Aaron as he wrapped his arm around her waist. Normally, Wolf would spend most of the day with them, painting sets and assisting any way he could, like an eager child tagging along behind his idols.

Wolfgang spent his time with the actors, often attending plays in order to observe the actors in their element, gleaning tips as he assisted them during rehearsals. Lizzie had quickly been impressed with the young man's penchant for mimicry, and Carter had even asked him to mimic several noises in a few of the acts they performed.

"I don't know." Aaron responded, shaking his head in confusion. "I'm not sure if I desire to know."

Wolf hurried towards the palace, heedless of the rain that began to fall.

* * *

"Are you sure?" Millie peered up at Gregory, hoping for reassurance, bereft of her usual confidence. "Greg, I'm not convinced this is a good idea."

The prince did not try to conceal his annoyance as he glanced at his lover, tossing aside the reports he had been reading.

"Millie," he pleaded, crossing to her side to drop onto the bed next to her. "I wish to be free of these palace walls and my responsibilities for one night! Won't you join me?"

"Are you sure we won't be recognized?"

Gregory rolled his eyes and squeezed her hands, having answered this question twice before. "Millie, I assure you, we will not be recognized. I have spoken to the manager, and he assured me that we will not be seen as anything more than commoners come to enjoy the show."

Millicent bit her lip. Perhaps, if she gave her maid instructions, she could slip away for a night with the prince, and his bride would be none the wiser. Millie had seen the other woman giving them suspicious glances over the past few weeks, and the noblewoman could do without her rival's speculations.

"If you're certain," she told her lover dubiously. Pleased that she had acquiesced, Gregory leaned forward and captured her lips in his, soft and sweet.

"You will enjoy yourself," he promised, his blue eyes growing dark with a heat that left Millie with no confusion as to what that "enjoyment" would entail after they snuck away to see a play with the rest of the common folk.

 _I pray you are right_. Millie thought, curling into his embrace and shoving away all thoughts that involved the princess. She knew that if anyone discovered them or her plot involving the princess, she would be banished, and she would have to surrender to Roselyn.

Such a defeat was not an option.

* * *

Winnie breathed in the smells of damp earth and wet pine as she stepped into the woods, Faolan at her side. The familiar scents of a forest immediately calmed her, and she allowed the wolf-dog at her side to roam freely, knowing her would return to her side the moment she called.

Normally, she would be worried about encountering a hunting party within the woods used specifically for game, but the steady rain that was repelled by the thick canopy of trees ensured that all of the nobles were safely enclosed within the palace walls.

The sky was gray and rumbled with thunder as Winnie had made her way expertly through the gardens, intent on reaching the woods beyond. Today, the gardens with their many exotic flowers would not satisfy her longing for trees and the comforting silence of the forest.

In the gray half-light that filtered through the trees, Winnie wandered aimlessly down a nearly invisible deer path, feeling as if part of herself—that she had unconsciously missed while in the castle—had returned with every breath she took.

A doe wandered out of the brush, startling at the sight of Winnie, but the young woman held herself still, watching the way the red and gold leaves held the rain water and gave it color, if only for a moment.

The deer obviously did not find Winnie a threat as the human stood frozen, and the animal wandered on, seeking a less inhabited feeding ground.

Moments later, Faolan burst through the brush, looking more alive than Winnie had every seen him on their restricted walks through the gardens. His russet fur dripped with water, and he circled his master warily, his amber eyes flashing back the way they had come as he came to a stop in front of Winnie.

Black nose in the air, the wolf-dog drew in a single breath and then snorted, relaxing. He bounded forward, uttering a quiet welcoming yelp, and Winnie heard someone approach, their footsteps muffled by the damp earth.

Her hand strayed to her belt knife, but a moment later, a familiar voice told her there was not reason to fear.

"Easy, Red. I'm not about to harm you."

Wolf stepped out of the trees, looking uncharacteristically grim as Faolan once again disappeared deeper into the woods, content that his master faced no threat.

"What's wrong?" Winnie asked, set on edge by Wolf's troubled expression.

Wolf sighed, looking away, towards the palace, as if the news he had to impart would bring it crumbling to the ground.

"The prince has a mistress."

His quiet words, spoke baldly and without preamble, sent Winnie stepping backwards in shock, eyes wide, sure that he was wrong.

"No," she denied. "Gregory has Roselyn-"

Wolf turned his gaze to her, and Winnie found that his amber eyes were anguished, as if the words pained him. "Red," he said harshly, his fists clenching, "you and I both know that Gregory never really wanted Roselyn, even from the beginning."

Biting her lip, Winifred considered all the times she had seen Gregory turn away from Roselyn's embrace, as if he couldn't bear he touch. She remembered the way he had seemed trapped during their journey, as if he regretted his decision to marry the common woman he barely knew. Now that she truly thought about it, Winnie remembered Gregory's reaction to the fact that his betrothed had been poisoned: concern that bordered on indifference.

Looking up, she found Wolf regarding her with a grim defiance, daring her to contradict what he said and the memories that crowded her mind, all signs of the prince's infidelity she had turned a blind eye to, all for the sake of—

"Roselyn," Winnie breathed, staring at Wolfgang as terror swamped her. "She won't like this."

"Can you deliver the news, Red?" Wolf's gentle question told her he knew the burden he was asking her to carry, but Winnie straightened, whistling for Faolan.

"I should be the one," Winnie assured him, her determination hardening into resolve. _May Fate allow me to atone for all the times I turned a blind gaze, and to tell Roselyn before she becomes trapped in a loveless marriage._

Brushing his fingertips against her cheek, Wolf gave her a sad smile, his amber eyes full of fear—not for himself, but for her. He knew what she risked by confronting the princess, no matter if she had known the future monarch from childhood.

"You are a brave woman, Winnie," he told her quietly, cupping her cheek in his hand and drawing her into his arms.

Winnie pillowed her head on Wolf's chest, trying to quell the fear that was quickly rising—she knew how Roselyn would react, and she did not relish the idea of receiving her friend's wrathful denial.

Wolf stroked her hair, a familiar gesture as Winnie relaxed against him, taking courage and strength from his presence, knowing that she would need it.

* * *

"Roselyn…"

The princess spun around as Winnie entered her chambers, soaking wet and closing the door behind her, allowing Wolf to follow her and keeping Faolan secure in her own room by distracting him with food.

"Winnie, what have you been doing?" Roselyn scolded, rushing over in order to push a dress and slippers into her friend's arms. "You should not have been playing in the rain—we have a feast to attend! Get dressed!"

"Rose…" Winnie said quietly, dumping the dress and slippers on Roselyn's bed. "I need to talk to you."

The princess stiffened at Winnie's cautious tone, her blue eyes radiating displeasure. "Can it wait?" she snapped, once again attempting to press the clothes into Winnie's grasp. "I cannot be late."

"The prince is unfaithful."

Roselyn dropped the dress to the floor and stared at them both for a long moment, shaking her head in denial, her eyes full of unshed tears.

"You lie," she hissed furiously. "How dare you say such a thing to me!"

Winnie stared at her, feeling pity for her friend, tears welling in her eyes at the princess' unwillingness to see the truth.

"Rose," she pleaded, hoping the use of the old nickname would pacify her friend long enough for the other woman to see reason, "you know I would not lie to you."

"You merely wish for me to return with you to Satuton!" Roselyn shrieked, her blue eyes flashing with an anger that held Winnie frozen to the spot, unable to comprehend what she was hearing.

"Roselyn," Wolf said softly, stepping forward, "Winnie would never do anything to hurt you."

"Be quiet!" Roselyn spat. "I am princess, and as such, I will not tolerate anyone who does not respect my position! Do not presume to speak such lies to my face and escape unpunished!"

Winnie stared at the enraged woman before her in horror, but she could not find any glimmer of her childhood friend. Roselyn Lanton was nowhere to be seen; in her place stood Princess Roselyn of Loken, the future monarch who would not allow herself to see the infidelity that her betrothed was committing before her eyes.

"Rose," Winnie pleaded, but it was useless. The furious woman in front her did not respond to the desperate use of her nickname, and before Winnie knew what was happening, Roselyn had called for the guards.

The armored men burst into the princess' bedchambers. "Is there a problem, Your Highness?" The largest one asked, and Roselyn pointed a shaking finger at the other two people in the room.

"Arrest them!" She cried shrilly, and Winnie could see the determination and fury in the woman's narrowed blue eyes. Her face was contorted with rage, and Winnie could no longer find any trace of her friend in the princess before her.

In answer, Wolf snarled, drawing his knife, planting himself in front of Winnie, facing the guards with murder in his amber eyes as Faolan howled behind the door, sensing danger to his mistress and incensed at his inability to protect her.

Winnie knew that if she did not stop him, Wolf would gladly kill all three guards in order to save her. While he may be at ease with the idea of killing three men, Winnie knew that the deaths would not help anyone.

Seeing no sensible solution but to surrender to the men that faced them, swords drawn, and knowing that Roselyn could no longer be appealed to, Winnie placed a hand on Wolf's shoulder, restraining him as much as he dared.

"Wolf," she pleaded, "don't, not for me. Put the knife down."

Growling in disgust, Wolf obeyed, dropping the knife and allowing the guards to restrain him. Winnie made no resistance as the guards wrested her arms behind her back and ushered them out of the room.

Sparing once glace back, all Winnie saw was Roselyn's tear-stained face, pale and unyielding.

* * *

The dungeons of the palace were dank and with the rain, water dripping steadily from the ceiling. Shoved into separate cells, Wolf growled curses at the guards, while Winnie curled upon the pile of hay that served as their bedding, heedless of the vermin that may be lurking in it.

"Red?"

Wolf's shaking voice was enough to rouse Winnie from the strange stupor she had fallen into the second the guards had captured them, and she lifted her head, glancing in Wolf's direction.

The man sat pressed against the bars, watching her with concern, his amber eyes darting around her cell as well as his—the alert and frenzied glances of an animal that is trapped and wants nothing more than to escape with its life.

Crawling over to the bars that separated them, Winnie grasped Wolf's hand, knowing he needed the human comfort more than she did. Her brain seemed fuzzy, as if this was some dream that she would wake from.

"Why would she imprison us?"

Wolfgang's heart twisted in his chest at the sound of Winnie's voice—the broken, soft sound of a child who doesn't understand what it has done to be punished.

"Red," he said softly, brushing her hair out of her face and allowing the feel of her soft skin under his fingertips to comfort him. "We'll escape, I promise you."

Winnie turned her dulled brown eyes to his, and Wolf shuddered at her disinterested gaze. At his words, a spark of their normal fire returned, and she regarded him solemnly. "We will?"

"I swear to it, by Fate." Wolf fervently prayed that he would be able to fulfill his vow. He did not relish the idea of watching Winnie starve to death in a prison cell while he could nothing, bound and helpless.

Wolf was no stranger to prisons or their occupants—as a boy, he had reluctantly helped his father repair some of the rusted cell doors in Satuton's small prison. Wolfgang had always hated the place—dank and dark and cold, with half-starved men who often went mad, raving as he passed. Once his father no longer needed his assistance, Wolfgang would never linger in the prison, nearly running to escape the dark rooms in order to seek refuge in his mother's warm and inviting shop.

Searching for a way to distract her, Wolf suddenly remembered the sketches he held in his pocket, forgotten until now.

"Red," he coaxed, extracting them and slipping them through the bars to land at her feet, "could you look at these?"

Confused but intrigued, Winnie bent obediently to pick up the papers and unfolding them, the rustling of the sheets the only thing to be heard other than the steady drip of water.

After a long minute, Winnie set the sketches in her lap, turning to the man across from her in puzzlement.

"What are these?"

Wolf allowed himself a small smile, glad she had shown interest in something other than their imprisonment and the way Roselyn had betrayed them.

"Those are costume designs," he said pleasantly. "I had a friend of mine, a costume designer, ask me to look them over. I'm not good with color, but I knew you were, so I told her you could look at them."

Winnie pulled her knees up to her chest, examining the designs closely, memories rushing back as lessons from her mother came tumbling through her brain, half-forgotten.

Frowning, she tapped the design of a dress, careful to keep the inked paper out of the wet. "This is all wrong," she told Wolf, her finger trailing down the sketch. "The hues are too close together to match, and these colors do not compliment each other. The red should be a pale orange, and the deep blues should be a lighter green."

Winnie looked up to find Wolf watching her appraisingly, a pleased smile on his face. "What?"

Wolf shook his head. "Red, have you ever thought of becoming a seamstress and making costumes?"

Winnie shook her head, uncertain as to how they arrived at their present conversation, given their surroundings. "No," she protested, "I'm not skilled enough with a needle to make costumes."

"What about designing them?" Wolf pressed, his amber eyes glittering with a secret he would not share.

The woman across from him gave him an odd stare, unsure of why he asked. "I never thought of it." She responded slowly.

"You should," Wolf encouraged, moving his pile of hay closer to the bars and ignoring the mice that rustled within. Knowing that there was no more use for speech in the darkening dungeon, the man made himself comfortable, attempting to sleep.

When he woke hours later as the dawn began to filter pink light into his cell, he found Winnie poring over the sketches, her brown furrowed in concentration, her gaze serious as she contemplated his words and her possible talents.

Allowing himself a triumphant smile, Wolf rolled over and returned to the quiet oblivion of sleep.


	17. Release and Repercussions

**A/N: Welcome to Chapter 17! Only a few more chapters until the end. Enjoy!**

* * *

Chapter 17: Release and Repercussions

When Wolf awoke a few hours after dawn, it was to find himself pressed up against the bars in an uncomfortable position. The hay that had served as his bedding was strewn about him as if he had moved restlessly while he slept.

Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, Wolf sat up and glanced towards Winnie's cell. All that he could see of the woman was her red hair, bright in the feeble sunlight and glowing in sharp contrast in the dull hay she slept on. The costume sketches were pillowed under her cheek, and Wolf could hear the sharp crackle of paper as she twisted in her sleep, searching for a more comfortable spot on the stone floor. Wolf noticed with alarm that Winnie shivered in her sleep—but whether it was from a terrifying dream or their dank conditions, he couldn't tell.

It was only when he took his eyes away from Winnie that the man realized that they were not alone.

Princess Roselyn stood at the door of Winnie's cell, gazing down at her friend in anguish, her blue eyes red-rimmed from tears.

"What do you want?" The woman startled at Wolf's low snarl, voiced quietly in order not to wake his sleeping companion.

"I..." the princess sank to her knees before Winnie's cell, tears beginning anew as she began to sob, uncharacteristically careless of the condition of her clothes.

Wolf watched her pitilessly, unable to find any compassion for the confused young woman for the moment. Winnie was in danger, and he could not protect her—there was no room for sympathy, especially not towards the one who had caused them harm.

"What is it?" Wolf asked disinterestedly, leaning back on the small pile of hay and surveying the princess through narrowed and unforgiving amber eyes.

"I'm sorry." The words were spoken so softly that Wolf was not sure he had heard them, but for before he could ask for repetition, Roselyn was already speaking again. "She was— _is_ —my friend, and I have betrayed her."

"You have." Wolf told her coldly, refusing to comfort her. Roselyn gave a strangled sob, reaching through the cell's door as if to reach out to Winnie, but the other woman slept on, oblivious to her friend's attempts at reconciliation.

"I want to make it up to her," she whispered fiercely, turning to Wolf, her eyes blazing. "I _have_ to gain her friendship again."

"Let us out." Wolf shot back, already feeling the walls close around him. How he hated cages of any sort! "She would forgive you if you freed us."

Roselyn glanced at him oddly, a smile tugging at her lips, for a moment looking like the gossiping young girl he had known from Satuton. "I suppose Winnie would not be content unless I freed you as well."

"She wouldn't." Wolf agreed, glancing towards Winnie to ensure that she still slept. It would not do any good if she woke and overheard their strange conversation.

The princess' lips thinned, and she suddenly glared at him. "Perhaps I should leave you here to rot," she spat, and Wolf gaped at her, startled by her abrupt change in mood.

"Why?" He demanded, glaring in response. "What have I done to you to make you despise me so?"

To his surprise and confusion, Roselyn pouted, looking like a child who had not received something she wanted. "You never wanted me."

" _What_?" Wolf gaped at her, dumbfounded and completely bewildered. "Roselyn, you're engaged to the prince of _Loken_ ,for Fate's sake!"

"I never wanted you to love me," Roselyn assured him flippantly, tossing her curls over her shoulders and drawing her shawl closer. She frowned at him contemplatively. "But you never seemed to find me beautiful, like the other men did. You only had eyes for her." She nodded towards the still-sleeping Winnie.

Wolf wondered for a brief moment if the princess was as truly mad as she appeared to be.

"You would imprison me for something I can't control?" He growled, glaring at her.

Roselyn pondered his question for several minutes, but she finally shook her head. "Perhaps I could," she told him, "but Winnie would never forgive me."

"Why did you arrest us?" Wolf demanded, still bristling over the idea that she would try to hold him for something that he couldn't consciously control.

Roselyn eyed him pensively. "I didn't want to allow myself to dwell on your words," she admitted finally, dropping her gaze to her hands, which she had been twisting in her lap. "If I did, I knew I would find the truth in them." Her mouth thinned, and she clenched her jaw. "I couldn't allow that."

Wolf nearly rolled his eyes. "Winnie has done nothing but be faithful companion to you, and this is the way you repay her? She's tried to discover who poisoned you!"

"I appreciate everything she's done for me," Roselyn murmured quietly, her gaze flitting to her slumbering friend, "but I was not thinking clearly. I only knew that I did not wish to acknowledge what she was trying to tell me."

"Are you going to free us or not?" Wolf demanded, not truly interested in listening to the princess' attempts to explain herself. With every passing moment, he felt something resembling sympathy towards her, and he did not want that. He knew that it was easier to keep your anger towards your foe in check. It meant that you would remain wary and ready for their next action.

Roselyn gazed at him, her blue eyes stormy and troubled. "Will she forgive me?"

Wolf shrugged. "There's only one way to discover that answer, _Your Highness_."

Ignoring his derisive tone, Roselyn pulled a ring of keys from the folds of her dress and unlocked his cell door. As the latch lifted and the door creaked open, Wolf bolted for the door, eager to leave his dank prison behind.

Stretching himself to his full height, feeling slightly less panicked and irritable now that he was free of his cage, Wolf paced over to Winnie's cell, motioning impatiently for the princess to open it.

The moment the door swung open, Wolf pushed it open and strode into small space, crouching next to Winnie and brushing his fingertips over her cheek.

"Red, get up."

At his whispered plea, Winnie rolled onto her back and peered up at him blearily, her brown eyes sleepy and confused.

"Wolf?" She murmured, reaching up to traces the lines of his face, as if uncertain that he truly stood in front of her.

"Red, get up." Wolf coaxed gently, helping her to her feet, frowning as she finally stood, swaying slightly. "We're leaving."

"Leaving?" Winnie's brow furrowed as she swung around to face him, wobbling. "Leaving the dungeon? How?"

Wolf nodded towards Roselyn, who hovered in the doorway, looking apprehensive. Winnie stiffened at the sight of her former companion, her chin lifting defiantly and her brown eyes clearing as they flashed with disgust.

"What do you want?" She spat, and Wolf was surprised to hear the amount of venom in her voice.

Winnie watched as Roselyn wavered in the doorway of her cell, clearly hesitant to approach her. The imprisoned young woman was not entirely certain she wanted the princess anywhere near her at the moment, and she leaned against Wolf, considering her friend-turned-princess.

She had known Roselyn since childhood, since Elsa had first introduced them. Could that bond of friendship last beyond the changes that Fate saw fit to twist their lives? Roselyn stared at her pleadingly, silently begging forgiveness, her blue eyes filled with tears.

Stiffly, Winnie approached the princess, watching as Roselyn drew back slightly, as if afraid Winnie would strike her.

"Do you want my forgiveness because you don't want to ruin your reputation?"

At her harsh question, Roselyn's gaze flew up to meet Winnie's, shaking her head vehemently. Winifred could see in her friend's gaze that Roselyn was shocked and horrified by the suggestion.

To Winnie's surprise, Roselyn dropped into a curtsy. From her subservient position, the princess of the kingdom glanced up at her oldest friend, her lashes heavy with unshed tears.

"I ask your forgiveness because I wish to regain your friendship."

Winnie stared down at her friend in astonishment, hearing pain and a desperate plea for acceptance in Roselyn's voice.

"Regain?" Both Roselyn and Wolf startled at Winnie's harsh laugh, and Wolf's gaze sharpened as Winnie began to smile, her features softening, losing their ugly traces of anger.

Leaning forward to grasp Roselyn by the arms and help her rise from the curtsy she had been holding, Winnie concluded in a whisper, "How can you regain something you never lost?"

For a moment, Roselyn's face echoed the shock and surprise that Winnie's had held moments before, but then she grinned, her blue eyes glowing as the tears vanished. Giggling with relief, she threw herself into Winnie's arms.

"Thank you," she breathed, and Winnie returned the embrace, feeling her despair from the day before vanish like the rainwater when confronted with warm sunlight.

Wolf smiled as he followed the two reconciled women out of the dungeon and back to the sunlit world of the palace.

 _Well done, Red_.

* * *

Lady Millicent of Hake tugged at her skirts, wondering at the feel of rough cotton against her skin. It had taken a heavy amount of bribery to keep her maid quiet, but the young woman had been willing to keep her silence when her mistress asked for a maid's uniform.

Clenching the small perfume bottle in her hand, Millie glanced at the ruby contents inside. While the sleeping draught that she had originally procured from Hawkins had been dark amber, the poison she had added to it had turned the liquid to a deep red. It would blend seamlessly into the goblet of wine she held in her hand, and Millie picked up the tray and bottle, shivering with anticipation.

No, she would not add the poison to the wine as she had to the sleeping draught before it was given to the princess. This time, she would be killing the princess herself, only pouring the potion into the goblet when she knew the princess wouldn't be looking.

Perhaps it was madness to attempt to kill the princess of the realm in broad daylight instead of the dead of night, but Millie was finished waiting for the princess to be removed by her own poor qualities alone. Millie had failed to convince Gregory that his bride-to-be had none of the qualities or experience a future monarch, and although she still shared his bed, Gregory had ignored his lover, convinced that he must marry Roselyn Lanton, for he had given his word.

 _Enough of this!_ Millie hissed with delight as she quickened her pace towards the princess' chambers. Fate had failed to remove the princess from the throne, so Millie was determined to usurp the commoner on her own. Her green eyes glowing with excitement, she made sure that her disguise concealed her blonde hair before knocking meekly.

Millicent nearly quivered with anticipation as the princess opened the door to her bedchamber with a welcoming smile. The prince's lover knew that the princess had imprisoned her two companions the night before, and Roselyn would be alone.

"Your wine, Your Highness," she murmured quietly, resisting the urge to spit the undeserved title in the imposter's face. How dare this woman attempt to take what should be hers!

Pulling the small bottle from an inner pocket of her skirt, Millie waited until the other woman had her back turned. Unstopping the tiny bottle, Millicent had almost all the contents dumped into the goblet before someone wrenched her arm away, nearly knocking the glass over.

Millie grappled with her unseen assailant, but suddenly, the prick of a knife point at her neck and the feeling of some creature closing its jaws around her ankle held her frozen in place.

Keeping the blade pressed against her pulse, Millie's attacker pried her fingers from the small bottle, and Millie hissed in defiance as it was taken from her. She fought to reclaim it, but needle-sharp pains around the base of her ankle told her that whatever beast held her was about to bite.

"Don't drink the wine, Roselyn," the low voice behind Millie warned.

There was no sound from the princess, and Millie viciously hoped that the other woman had fainted. She would be much easier to kill if she was unconscious.

A rustling of skirts and the clank of armor had Millie's heart sinking, but she raised her chin definitely. Even if the princess called the guards, they were easy to dispatch. Fingering the dagger she had hidden up her sleeve, Millicent waited until her captor had released her in order for the guards to take her.

In the moment before she transferred holds, Millie spun around, ignoring the yelp at her feet as she kicked at something furry. Her green eyes glinted dangerously, and she saw the guards halt in shock as they recognized her, even in disguise.

"Lady Millicent," the larger guard said calmly, his hand on his sword hilt. "Lay down your weapon."

"Lady Millicent?" Millie heard the princess gasp behind her, and in defiance, the noblewoman tore the kerchief from her hair, allowing her blonde curls to spill down her back.

"Yes," she spat, ignoring the way the guards stepped closer. Glaring at both of the women that faced her—at the princess' side stood her lady companion, a young woman who still held her knife unsheathed and ready, her brown eyes wary, a snarling wolf crouched at her feet, blood coloring its nose and muzzle.

Millie felt the guards restrain her, and she knew what her punishment would be. The princess' friend still held the bottle that condemned her, and Millicent only hoped that Gregory would not be present for her trial.

* * *

"Lady Millicent of Hake, do you deny that you attempted to harm the princess of the kingdom?"

Winnie watched as Lady Millicent—still dressed her maid's uniform—gazed coldly at her monarchs and gave a defiant answer, as if they were the only ones in the room, not surrounded by the entire court.

"No," she replied harshly, her green eyes blazing with anger, "I do not deny it."

All around her, the courtiers gasped and murmured to themselves, but Winnie kept her gaze on the monarchs that sat before the court. They would decide the noblewoman's fate.

"You are aware of the punishment for harming one of the royal family?"

Millicent barely refrained from glaring at her king. "I am."

"Father," the quiet voice came from Gregory, who had remained white-faced and silent throughout the entire proceedings, gazing at Millicent in anguish. Beside him, Roselyn, equally pale, said nothing, her expression composed, her blue eyes betraying nothing of her inner turmoil. Even when Hawkins had been brought forward and confirmed that the liquid in the perfume bottle had been poison, the young royal couple had said nothing.

The crown prince left his place at his betrothed's side and moved to stand beside Lady Millicent, looking desperate.

"Father," he repeated, his voice easily carrying above the murmuring crowd. "I ask that you spare her life, for my sake."

King Carolos eyed his oldest son as if he had never seen Gregory before. "You have a duty to your intended," he warned the prince, his blue eyes darting towards Roselyn in reminder. "You would ask for the life of her murderer to be spared?"

Gregory kept his gaze steady, and he spoke only to his father. "I love her."

The king blanched, the courtiers around her began to whisper excitedly, but Winnie noticed the queen looked resigned, as if she had always known. As the nobles around her began to gossip, Winnie felt a flash of irritation. These courtiers acted as if the scene before them was nothing more than a play, as if a human's life did not hang in the balance.

The ballroom was not so filled with excited voices that Lady Millicent's words were missed. "No, Greg," she chided slightly, turning towards the prince with a wry, sad smile on her face, her green eyes misting with tears. "You shouldn't ask for such things."

"It is the only thing I want." Gregory retorted fiercely, taking her hand and turning back to await his father's judgment.

King Carolos sighed and glanced at his wife. She was staring at their heir as she had never seen him before. Arnia gazed up at him, her gray eyes giving him her answer to his predicament. Carolos sighed and nodded, noticing that the entire ballroom hushed, awaiting his decision.

"Lady Millicent of Hake," he proclaimed, "from this day forth you will be stripped of your title and forever exiled from the kingdom of Loken, in order to atone for your crimes. If you are ever found in this realm again, your life will be forfeit."

Millie heard her sentence, and at the moment, all she could comprehend was that her life was not to be taken. Slowly, Gregory turned to her, his blue eyes shadowed by the pain she could feel in her chest, a palpable ache. She would never see him again.

"I will love you forever," he swore, leaning forward to kiss her one final time, in full view of the court. Silence fell, and the entire nobility stared in surprise.

Millicent clung to him, ignoring the tears that raced down her cheeks as she memorized the feel of his lips against hers for the last time. "There will never be anyone but you," she returned, pressing her lips against his ear as she whispered her solemn vow.

Faintly, she heard the king order the guards to escort her to her rooms to collect her belongings and then be escorted from the castle, but she did not move from Gregory's arms.

Millie clenched her jaw as the guards pulled her away from Gregory, determined not to leave the court with the final image of her sobbing as she was taken from her lover. Spinning away from the prince, she did not curtsy to her monarchs—she had to leave the room, before she lost all the composure she had cultivated after years of living in this court.

Then she was gone, hurrying through the crowd, the guards fighting to follow in her wake, and Gregory wondered if he would ever be whole again.

* * *

The former Lady Millicent of Hake moved mechanically around her rooms, abandoning her open trunks in favor for one of the simplest bags she owned. Her green eyes were glassy, her blonde hair was in disarray, and her jaw was clenched as she fought back tears.

Her hands shook as she bundled a few of her favorite dresses and a few other necessary garments into the deep bag, feeling for the first time the hopelessness of her situation, thoughts that had not been able to reach her between the whispers around her during her trial.

She had been banished from the only home she had ever known. She was now a disgraced nobleman, and no self-respecting noble family would take her in, even if they were sympathetic.

Millie could not even return home, for worse reception would await her there.

Her family had sent her from Hake to Loken in order that she would represent their country and help the ambassador smooth the peace between the two kingdoms. Even when the peace had been established six years ago, when she had barely begun to attend court functions, she had not been called home. Letters to her family had ordered her to stay there and become familiar with the royal family, for it was possible that her second cousin, the princess of Hake, would become Gregory's bride.

So Millicent had stayed in Loken at her parents' command, falling deeper in love with Gregory and despising the day he would be wed to her kin. She had been ecstatic when the plans had fallen through two years later, and Millie had even entertained fantasies that she was the one Gregory would be asked to marry.

Alas, nothing had come of it, but Millie had begun to think of the palace of Loken as home, a more accepting environment than the cold one she had been raised in. To be exiled from the country she had adopted, to be torn from the man she loved….

It was too much.

But not enough to give her cause to despair. Shoving one of her more costly dresses into the bag, Millie quickly bundled up anything of value and stood ready, still in her maid's uniform. She would need the rougher clothes to pass as a commoner, she supposed, and no one had demanded them back.

Soon, the guard stepped into her room, but only found an empty chamber. By the time he located the open window and the knotted, sheets, dresses and robes that hung from it, it was too late.

Millicent of Hake had disappeared.

* * *

"You understand?" Gregory glanced anxiously at the woman before him, and to his relief, he could only find a sorrowful resignation in her gaze, as if she truly understood his decision.

"I do."

"I'm sorry I could not be the man you wished for," the prince apologized, but the beautiful woman before him only smiled wryly and shook her head, dismissing his words.

"You must do what you feel is right."

Pressing the creamy envelope into her hands, Gregory made sure that his personal seal could easily be discerned. "You will give this to my parents with my apologies?"

The woman before him dropped into a curtsy that could only be described as regal. "As a last favor to you, I will." Her blue eyes flashed up to watch him turn and exit his chambers, dressed in rough clothes and carrying nothing more than a satchel, leaving his rooms feeling oddly bereft of the person who had filled them with his presence. For the first and last time, the woman stood in her prince's apartments, unable to check the tears that fell at his departure, clenching his last royal decree in her shaking hands.

As she stared at the doors Gregory had just exited, Roselyn Lanton wondered if she would ever see him again.

* * *

Millicent of Hake spurred her horse onward, her jaw clenched tight as her teeth ached in protest. Her palms stung against the smooth leather of the reins—she had scraped them when she had fallen the remaining three feet from the end of her impromptu rope to the ground. The dresses had been slippery, the stitching giving way under the strain, and Millie had thought several times on her perilous climb down the side of the palace that she would fall to her death.

Now, confident that none of the guards had noticed her escape, she ignored the way her mare balked at a rabbit racing before its hooves and kicked the horse into a gallop, riding east through the king's hunting woods.

The king had demanded that she leave Loken, and that was what she intended to do. To the east lay the kingdom of her birth. Although she may not be welcome in the noble fiefs, perhaps she could create a new life for herself.

* * *

 **A/N: Reviews are always appreciated!**


	18. Farewell

**A/N: Welcome to chapter 18! As always, thank you to everyone who has reviewed and viewed this story. We're getting closer to the end now-only three chapters left.**

* * *

Chapter 18: Farewell

Queen Arnia of Loken stared at the letter, as if her gaze could force the words to rearrange themselves into words she desired and understood.

It had been delivered into her hands that morning by her son's jilted intended, the Lady Roselyn. Although she was no longer considered the princess of the kingdom, Arnia had convinced her husband to grant the young woman a title, hoping that perhaps a chance at the noble life she so clearly craved would soften the blow.

Roselyn was dry-eyed and solemn as she pressed the letter into the queen's hands. Dismissing her ladies, the queen retreated to her bedchamber to read it, her heart sinking at the sight of her beloved son's personal seal.

Her heart broke as she finally mustered the determination to read her son's final words.

 _To my beloved parents,_

 _If you are reading these words, I have already left. I apologize for the pain that these words must cause you, but they must be voiced._

 _I do not love Roselyn Lanton. She is a beautiful woman, and she will make some man a fine wife one day, but she is not the consort I have desired. There is one woman who has always been my consort, before I even consciously chose her._

 _Lady Millicent of Hake will be the only woman I will ever love, and since you have exiled her, you have exiled me as well. I know that you must think that such a thing is impossible, that I would never leave my kingdom, but I have finally realized that ruling the greatest kingdom in the world means nothing if you do not share it with the one you love._

 _I have left the palace in order to search for Millie. Do not expect me to return and reclaim my crown once I have found her. Fate has chosen my path, and I have decided to trust Her. I cannot marry with an honest heart when the one woman I love is never allowed at my side to lay claim to it._

 _It is with a heavy heart that I tell you of my decision to abdicate. Know that it was not a choice I have made lightly; I have paced the floors of my rooms these past hours, arguing the various points to my choices._

 _Please forgive Roselyn for me, for I cannot find the words myself. She expected me to love her as a proper suitor should, and I have betrayed her trust in the worst way—I have failed to give her mine in return. Whatever grief I feel at betraying Roselyn as well as you, my dear parents, my decision remains the same._

 _I, Prince Gregory Carolos Pellian of Loken, Heir to the throne, future monarch of the fair kingdom, do resign from my right to rule with these words. I will follow the customs of my people and pledge to never again seek the throne of my kingdom, nor intend harm towards my king._

 _I am no longer prince as I speak these words, and Mother, I beg you to allow Father to have me stricken from the family records. I am not Pellian royalty from this moment on, but I remain forever,_

 _Your loving son,_

 **Gregory**

 _May Fate bless you._

The letter dropped from the queen's hand onto the silken sheets, and for once, Arnia did not attempt to keep her composure. Cradling her head in her hands, she allowed herself to be consumed by her grief. For those long moments, she was no longer the queen of a great kingdom that had just lost its heir—she was a mother sobbing for her firstborn who would never come home again.

* * *

"Are you sure?" Roselyn asked for the fourth time that afternoon, and Winnie barely kept her temper in check, reminding herself that her friend was bound to be worried and insecure—they had had a trying few days.

"You know I don't belong here," she told Roselyn as she packed her few clothes in her bags. She had no need of her noblewoman's dresses where she was going.

Faolan seemed to realize that they were departing, for he had been restless all morning, pacing the length of Winnie's room, eager to be gone from the castle.

"Are you sure you won't come with us?" Winnie said, beckoning Wolf inside as he opened the door, his saddlebags slung over his shoulders.

Roselyn blushed, even as she held Winnie's concerned gaze. "I am used to my life here," she told them, gesturing to their opulent surroundings.

"What of your family?" Wolf questioned, startled when Winnie turned sharply to fix him with a glare.

Roselyn lifted her chin and nodded to the large pouch of money she had left on Winnie's bed. "That is for my mother, along with a letter."

Resting a hand on her arm, Winnie felt tears welling up as she thought of leaving her friend. She had known these day would come, but she had thought that she would be witnessing Roselyn's wedding, and could depart knowing she had left her friend in a place she was safe.

Roselyn's precarious position in court at the moment was anything but safe.

After the prince and Millicent's mysterious disappearances within hours of each other over a week ago, most of the nobility had assumed that they had run off together. When questioned, Roselyn said nothing, but Winnie wondered if her friend was hiding something.

Although she was a lady, Roselyn was distrusted by most of the court, and Winnie wished she was leaving her friend in the care of someone she trusted.

"I'll ensure that it gets to her," Winnie promised throatily, pulling her friend into an impulsive hug. She could feel Roselyn shaking with repressed sobs against her, and Winnie bit back tears of her own.

"Come," Roselyn commanded, drawing herself up and regally leading them towards the courtyard. "You need to leave."

Tying the last of her bags on her chestnut mare, Winnie was distracted by a clatter of hooves in the courtyard. She turned and watched with interest as a man directed his golden stallion across the stones, dodging the few servants expertly. In a superb show of horsemanship, he swung himself off his horse—while the stallion was still in a gallop—and landed lightly on the paved stones of the courtyard, watching in amusement as two grooms chased after his animal, who had discovered the safety of the stables.

Turning, the man froze, his blue eyes wide. Beside her, Winnie heard Wolf snarl, and Faolan looked up, wondering why his master was sudden so wary. Deciding that the best thing to do would be to protect his mistress, the pup pushed in front of Winnie and growled at the man standing yards away.

Winnie stared, shocked as well, but the man's blue eyes were not on her. Instead, he seemed to be drinking in the sight of the former princess. A smile played at his lips, and his hair glowed golden in the sunlight.

"Roselyn?" He questioned quietly, and across the courtyard, Roselyn started, her eyes wide, a pleased smile curling her lips.

"Rueben!" she called, and both Winnie and Wolf stared in consternation as the former princess once again abandoned her carefully cultivated composure to rush into a man's arms. Winnie could not miss the way Roselyn's eyes lit up at the sight of the man who was currently holding her in his arms, but she could not understand why.

Duke Rueben Reynard could not keep the grin of a fool from his face as he gazed down at the woman in his arms. He knew that he should be apologizing on his cousin's behalf, but if Gregory was stupid enough to let Roselyn go, why should he try to atone for his kin's sins? He knew that perhaps holding her as a lover would was not appropriate, given that she had been engaged to his cousin merely days ago—he was here because his aunt and uncle had finally summoned him back to court—but he could not contain himself.

Roselyn blushed as he wrapped his arms around her, delighted to see him and wondering why he had made such a sudden—and dramatic—appearance in the palace courtyard.

"Why did you come?" She murmured, pillowing her cheek on his shoulder and remembering the last time he had held her like this—months ago, when she had left his manor for the capital.

"I came because my kin asked me to." His voice grew husky as he considered her. "I believe I have you to thank for my reinstatement in the palace."

Roselyn shivered at his tone, smiling and unable to keep from blushing.

Across the courtyard, Wolf had finally relaxed enough to wrap a possessive arm around Winnie's waist. Smirking, he leaned over to gently close her hanging jaw with a forefinger.

"It's not polite to gape, Red," he teased lightly, chuckling as the woman next to him swatted his hand away and continued to stare at the couple across the courtyard as if they were part of some strange dream.

"What is he doing here?" She hissed finally, her brown eyes narrowing in fury. Wolf pulled her snugly against his side and pillowed his chin on her crown, attempting to calm her.

"It appears he has come to court to romance Roselyn," he drawled, smirking as Winnie attempted to mimic his growl in order to voice her displeasure.

"Don't worry, Red," Wolf consoled her, unable to resist the chance to tease, "now she'll have someone familiar to keep her company here."

"That's not what I had in mind," Winnie grumbled, indicating the two with a wave of her hand.

Wolf silenced her distrust with a slow, lingering kiss, and Winnie's breathing was shallow as he pulled away. She said nothing, staring up at him with liquid brown eyes for a moment, considering him as if she had never seen him before. Then her hands were tangled in his loose hair, and she was pulling him back down into her embrace.

* * *

Nehem Jabirne stared at the woman in front of him, his dark eyes contemplative.

"How is your hand at sewing?" He demanded, his deep voice echoing in the small wagon. The woman before him did not seem intimidated by his large frame and sharp gaze as so many others were, and she quickly produced a handkerchief from the depths of her bag.

Nehem tucked it into his sleeve without glancing at it; as director of the small playing troupe, it was not his job to examine needlepoint. That job was left to Saeriah, who would take the sample of the woman's work and then alert him if she was worthy of joining as a seamstress.

 _Where had the woman come from?_ Nehem found himself pondering the question as he examined the woman seated primly before him. Her rough clothes suggested she came from a common background, but everything else about her suggested nobility. Was she on the run from a jilted lover? A jealous husband? As a rule, Nehem did not normally take on troubled women that sought protection within the ranks of his actors, but this woman did not seem to be running from something.

Her green eyes were icy, and she had answered all of his questions quickly and quietly, keeping her gaze on his, never averting it as if she had something to hide.

"Is there anything else you can offer me?" Nehem asked, hoping that the woman would come up with a sensible answer. If she offered her body, she would be out of the wagon before she could blink.

To his relief, the strange woman leaned forward and rummaged through her large bag for a moment, possibly containing all the clothes and money she owned.

To his surprise, she pulled out a glittering gown, brushing her blonde curls out of her face as she offered it to him. Nehem took the heavy cloth and inspected it, taking note of the tiny flashes in the lamplight that meant jewels, and the rich fabric that was clearly only given to nobility.

Staring at the mysterious woman, Nehem concluded silently that she was either nobility, or she was a maid who had stolen her mistress' clothes.

"What am I to do with this?" He demanded gruffly, looking at her sharply, waiting for an answer.

Once again, the woman did not seem afraid of him. "You could use it as a costume," she retorted just as harshly, shrugging with indifference. "Or, if your seamstresses have no use for it, cut up the fabric to make new costumes."

Nehem turned his gaze to the dress so the woman would not see his indecision. The woman was undoubtedly noble-born, but she did not lack brains. She was right—fabric was hard to come by in a traveling acting troupe, and he knew that Saeriah would be delighted at such cloth, ready with at least four costumes that needed repairing.

"I have more than just that one," the woman continued, showing him the skirts from at least four other dresses, just as well-made.

Nehem grunted in reply, unwilling to reveal how impressed and intrigued he truly was. "I'll hire you on for a week," he told her. "If you do well in that week, and follow Saeriah's orders, we'll see about a more permanent position."

"Thank you." The woman said quietly, gathering her bag and turning towards the exit.

"A moment," Nehem called, causing the woman to pause, her hand clutching the blanket that served as his door. "What is your name?"

The woman cast him an unfathomable look over her shoulder, and for a moment, he thought she would refuse to answer. Finally, she sighed, her green eyes glowing with hidden secrets in the half-light of his tent.

"My name is Millie."

Then only air remained where she had been, her footsteps dying away slowly as she left his wagon, and Nehem wondered if he had made the right choice.

* * *

"Good afternoon, Winifred."

Winnie clenched her jaw at the sound of Duke Rueben's voice, and she managed a curt nod at his approach. "Rueben."

Roselyn rolled her eyes at their strained exchange, looking happier than Winnie had seen her in weeks.

Rueben's blue eyes held the slightest hint of animosity as he nodded at Wolf. "So, you finally won her, did you, Lothar?"

Wolf stiffened, his amber eyes narrowing as he glared at his enemy. "She was never yours, Reynard." He spat in return, tightening his grip on Winnie. At their feet, Faolan snarled an affirmation of his own, and for a moment, Rueben looked wary of the wolf-dog pup.

"Roselyn," Rueben turned his attention back to the noblewoman at his side, and the former princess gazed up at him, her blue eyes bright. "Would you honor me by being my escort when I meet my kin again?"

"You honor me," Roselyn murmured in response, her gaze lost in Rueben's, barely turning her head when Winnie spoke.

"Roselyn, we have a long journey back," Winnie began. "We should leave."

Returning to herself, Roselyn blushed and slipped out of Rueben's arms. "Of course," she murmured, tears once again crowding her eyes.

"I'll miss you," she murmured as she embraced her oldest friend, and Winnie felt tears pricking the corners of her eyes as well.

"May Fate bless you," Winnie returned, her voice choked.

"Wolfgang." Roselyn turned to Wolf, and with a teasing smile, the man bowed over her hand, lifting it to his lips.

Feeling strangely bereft, Winnie mounted her mare, looking back down at Roselyn.

"There will always be a place for you in Satuton," she swore, and her childhood friend nodded, giving her a tremulous smile.

"There will always be a place for you here, as long as I remain," Roselyn promised in return, and unable to prolong the farewells any longer, and knowing that the longer she stayed, the harder it would be to part, Winnie turned her horse abruptly and urged the equine into a gallop as they passed the gates. Wolf and Faolan raced after her, while Roselyn watched them leave, wiping the tears from her eyes and smiling up at Reuben as he caught the few that she missed.

Winnie told herself that the tears streaming from her eyes were the effect of the harsh fall wind.

* * *

They were miles from Loken before they spoke, and finally Wolf reached over to take her hand. Winnie managed to summon a smile to her face, but it quickly died.

"It shouldn't be this hard," she whispered, silent sobs wracking her body as she thought of Roselyn, and her parents. She had lost the ones she loved in ways that she had not imagined, and parting would always be the hardest thing to bear.

Wolf brushed his fingertips over her cheeks, eradicating the tears that slipped away from her eyes, his amber eyes soft with sympathy.

"Red," he whispered, "you'll see them again."

"I know," Winnie mumbled, staring at her mare's mane, "but I wish that I knew when that would be."

"Trust Fate," Wolf advised her, cupping her cheek in his hand as he leaned from his mount to press her lips against hers.

Wolf's stallion shifted beneath him, pulling away from Winnie's chestnut mare as she tried to snap at him. Breaking the kiss, Wolf snatched at his reins, steadying the horse with a calm word and settling him several steps away from Winnie.

Grinning despite herself, Winnie laughed at the memory of Wolf's startled expression. In front of them, Faolan called to them in a high-pitched howl, urging them on and wondering why they waited several yards behind.

"Come on, Red," Wolf urged, spurring his mount forward, "we're going home!"

Winnie allowed her mare to follow, smiling as the wind teased her hair, the crisp fall breeze brushing against her face.

 _Home_. The word had never sounded so warm and inviting.

* * *

The self-exiled crown prince of Loken cursed in frustration and pushed his mount on further, deeper into the woods. It had not taken him long to find Millie's trail out of the castle, leading east, but he had lost it soon after exiting the royal hunting range.

Peering into the gloom and hoping that he would find a fresher trail by dawn's light, the prince found a secluded glade and tethered his lathered mount to a strong tree before pulling off the tack and rubbing the exhausted animal down.

Thanking Fate that he had asked Robert to supply him with everything he needed to survive in the woods, Gregory managed—with much difficulty—to light a small fire, cooking the rabbit he had snared.

Burrowing into his bedroll and pulling another blanket over himself to ward off the chill night wind, Gregory stared up at the stars he could discern through the canopy above him.

Far off, a wolf howled, and Gregory realized how alone he was. Normally, he would be sleeping in a tent, surrounded by a dozen guards and comforted by the sounds of humans nearby. Now, he was on his own. Shivering, the former prince made sure his weapons were nearby.

Sleep would be a long time coming that night.

* * *

"I don't understand it!" Aaron exclaimed, staring at the excited young woman before him.

"'Tis true," Jess hastened to assure him, her gray eyes fervent. "I heard it from the prince's valet hisself."

"They're both gone?" Aaron swore another oath, this time, much louder, gaining the attention of his wife.

"Aaron Therou!" Lizzie reached over to cuff her husband on the head before turning back to the boss' daughter, warning, "Keep a civil tongue in your head! Jess picks up enough foul language!"

Jess, too caught up in her exciting tale to protest, continued regaling her fellow thespians. "Some are sayin' that Gregory's gone off to find his ladylove, and some are whisperin' that he has gone off by hisself, to think about the kingdom."

"Never mind that, Jess," Lizzie waved away the palace gossip and leaned forward, her green eyes shadowed with concern. "What of Wolf?"

Several choruses of "Aye, what of Wolfgang?" followed her question, and Jess tugged at her skirt, frowning in answer.

"Not much news of him," she answered, "but what I did hear is that Wolf left after the prince did."

"Did he go alone?" Lizzie demanded, beaming as Jess shook her head.

"No. Most 'ports had him ridin' out with a lady at his side."

"He won her after all," Lizzie settled back into her chair, a triumphant smile lighting the room. "Fate bless," she whispered, and Aaron shook his head affectionately, wondering how such a practical woman could be so sentimental at odd times.

* * *

"Do you believe they're all right?"

Reuben looked up as Roselyn entered the expansive library, looking to him as if he had the answers to every question ever posed.

Dropping his gaze back to the heavy book in his lap, Rueben frowned, uncertain how to respond. While he still felt the slightest strains of animosity towards Winifred and her irritating companion, Roselyn had come to him for comfort, and he could not deny her that.

"I suppose they are safe," he said carefully, and was pleased with his diplomatic answer when Roselyn gave him a weary smile, reassured.

"If I do not worry over them," she murmured, settling with a weary grace onto the couch next to him, "I can perhaps sleep tonight."

Chuckling, Rueben laid his book aside and wrapped his arm around her, offering her his body as a resting place, decorum be damned. He did not care if the queen walked into the library at that moment and witnessed them tangled together—he only cared for the woman had his side, tired and worrying over her friends when she had enough to fret about.

"Sleep," he murmured, stroking her sable curls as she blinked up at him, a slow, sleepy movement that had him yawning as well.

"Thank you, Reuben," Roselyn murmured, curled into his embrace. Suddenly, her blue eyes flew open, and she stared up at him in consternation, as if remembering something from long ago.

"Is that what you want to be called?" When the duke merely stared, his confusion plain, she elaborated. "There is your other name, Rumpel—what was it?"

"No," Rueben growled softly, daring to silence her by leaning forward and capturing her lips in his. Roselyn's question easily slid from his mind as he reacquainted himself with the feel of her soft skin against his.

"No," he chided her gently again as he pulled away slightly. "That is not my name."

Roselyn blinked, the edges of her eyelashes brushing against his cheek. "All right," she murmured complacently, causing the man holding her to grin, suddenly glimpsing what she might have been like as a girl.

Stroking her hair, Rueben watched the lamplight flicker against the shelves, the silence only broken by the sound of Roselyn's easy breathing.

 _Perhaps my five years of banishment were not in vain._

* * *

 **A/N: Reviews are appreciated.**


	19. Decisions

**A/N: I apologize for the late hour of this posting-I was out of town all day and just now reached my computer. Thank you to everyone who has read and reviewed this story. Please enjoy!**

* * *

Chapter 19: Decisions

Winnie followed Wolf nervously up the stairs, every step betraying her uncertainty.

Attempting to breathe deeply, the young woman chided herself. _What's wrong with you? This is_ Wolf _!_

That was the problem.

The journey from Ibbot to the small forested town of Satuton took two weeks, and Winnie and Wolf were three days from their destination. After spending over a week and a half sleeping in the forest in their separate bedrolls, the two had journeyed close enough to a town to use what little money they carried with them on a room at a nearby inn, the Speckled Cat.

The problem was, Winnie reflected, wishing she had decided to sleep in the stables with Faolan and the horses, there was only enough money for one room.

One room. A single bed.

Wolf did not seem concerned by the prospect of sharing a bed—or, Winnie mused, perhaps the idea did not bother him. Shivering, Winnie remembered the night of ball, when Wolf had silently asked to come to her bed.

She had refused him.

Could she refuse him again?

Pushing open the door of their quarters, Wolf surveyed the small room and dropped his bags in the corner. Winnie quickly crossed to the other side of the room, yawning in spite of herself. It had been a long ride, and as she straightened from putting her bag on the floor, several of her muscles protested the movement, and she winced.

As if he had noticed her flinch, Wolf was suddenly behind her, his strong hands kneading the knots from her shoulders. Moaning in relief, Winnie leaned against him, her eyes fluttering closed as she murmured her thanks.

She could feel Wolf's chuckle rumble through his chest, pressed against him as she was. "I used to do this for my mother," he confided, pressing against the taut muscles in her neck.

Winnie smiled wistfully at the thought of Elsa. "I'm sure she appreciated your touch."

"It seems you do as well," Wolf whispered in her ear, his lips brushing against her cheek as his hands left her shoulders to tug gently against her hips, pulling her flush against him.

Keeping her eyes closed and shivering at the contact, Winnie turned her head slightly, allowing Wolf to drop his head to press gentle kisses against her neck. Every nerve was now alive with a stronger heat than mere exhaustion, and Winnie was reminded of the day so long ago when Wolf had cornered her in the hallway of her grandmother's house.

The heat between them had been as palpable then as it was now, and as Wolf's lips drifted towards her jaw, a possessive growl beginning to rumble through his body, his chest vibrating slightly against her back, Winnie realized that while she had been trembling with fear and unknown attraction that day so long ago, her body was responding to Wolf now.

Turning around swiftly, Winnie was unprepared for Wolf to press her against the wall, pinning her there with his larger form. Instead of feeling trapped, Winnie welcomed the stable surface against her back, arching slightly into Wolf's touch as his lips drifted over hers again and again, teasing her.

"Red…" Wolf's husky whisper was enough to summon Winnie's wide gaze to his. Winnie brought her hand to his cheek, mesmerized by the way his amber eyes had taken on a darker golden tone, his pupils dilating in the gloom as his breath ghosted against her lips.

Winnie, acting on instinct, hummed in response, pressing her body fully against Wolf's, feeling a strange thrill of satisfaction upon hearing his throaty groan in reply. His lips were on hers, his tongue claiming her mouth faster than before. Winnie clung to him, her nerves feeling like copper wire in her blood as her bones seemed to soften, leaving her limp in his grasp.

They were on the bed before Winnie knew what was happening, Wolf tracing his lips against her neck and collarbone, distracting her with the warm feel of his lips against her skin. Stretching against the mattress, Winnie brushed up against Wolf, rewarded when his amber eyes flashed, once again groaning.

"Red," he breathed against her ear, his cheek rough with stubble against hers, and Winnie responded to her nickname as if he had added fresh tinder to the fire raging in her belly. Pressing her lips against his strong jaw, her hands feathered against his shirt, feeling his heart racing under her palms. Winnie explored the skin of his neck, following the line of his shirt to press her lips to his collarbone and shoulder. When she pulled away, she found Wolf trembling above her, staring down at her, the heat in his eyes threatening to consume her.

"Do you want this?" Wolf whispered gently against her swollen lips, dropping his head for a moment to nip at her neck, leaving the faintest of marks.

It was his question that snapped Winnie out of the lustful haze her mind had been locked behind, and although she responded to the heat in his gaze, something told her that this was not the time.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, feeling tears inexplicably crowd her eyes as Wolf's eyes grew shadowed with disappointment and he abruptly stood up.

"It's all right, Red," he told her, raking a hand through his hair. Although he would not look at her, his voice was gentle, and Winnie felt some of her irrational fear fall away.

Turning back to her, Wolf gave her a wry smile, helping her off the bed and to her feet. "I do not blame you," he reassured her gently, his fingers brushing the light mark on her neck, his amber gaze steady.

As if the slightest contact was too much, Wolf broke away suddenly and disappeared into the bathroom. Mystified, Winnie watched him leave before turning around and quickly donning her nightgown.

Wolf slid back into the room just as she was pulling the sheets down, and Winnie froze, her heart leaping into her throat. Surely he did not expect her to sleep when he was dressed like that!

The man she had to come to love was dressed in nothing more than the loose pair of pants she had seen him wear morning after morning in her grandmother's house.

However, there was a difference between seeing him seated properly at her grandmother's table and seeing him when she was expected to sleep next to him.

Without looking at him, Winnie slid beneath the sheets, pulling them up to her chin as she quickly snuffed out the candle. In the darkness, she could feel the edge of the mattress dip as Wolf pulled aside the sheets and lay down beside her.

Winnie prayed for Fate to grant her sleep quickly, but it seemed that Fate would not be so kind that night. Her every nerve attuned to Wolf's slightest movement on the other side of the bed, Winnie stared at the ceiling, wondering if sleep would ever come.

* * *

Sleep did come eventually, for Winnie woke to warm fall sunlight streaming through the window onto the bed. The warm sunlight was not as comforting or as warm as the body curled against her, an arm comfortably wrapped around her waist.

In that moment, Winnie was wide awake, stiffening slightly as she took in her surroundings. Somehow, during the night, they had managed to become entwined, with Wolf's chest pressed up against her back. Wolf's legs were tangled in her own, and his body provided a warm shelter.

Slowly, loathe to wake him, Winnie wriggled slightly, rolling over so she faced him. Seeing that he still slept, the woman was free to memorize his features. Daring to trace a gentle finger down his cheek, Winnie followed the lines of his face, freezing when she felt Wolf begin to stir.

Sleepy amber eyes regarded her with growing interest, and a small smile tugged at Wolf's lips. "Morning, Red," he murmured in a husky voice.

Winnie found herself blushing, the color intensifying as Wolf lazily traced the path of the color on her skin, his fingertips lingering on her cheeks, stroking the small strands of wayward hair out of her face.

"Morning," she managed to murmur in return, and Wolf brushed his lips against hers in the briefest of kisses before sitting up.

Winnie sat up as well, taking advantage of his turned back to slide out of the bed and hastily dress. Turning to face him, Winnie found him with his back still towards her.

Padding on bare feet towards her companion, Winnie peered curiously at Wolf, wondering what he seemed so enraptured by. The man sat staring at his saddlebags, looking as if he was contemplating some serious situation.

Sensing her puzzled gaze, he glanced up and flashed her a smile before silently regarding his bags again, his jaw setting in determination. Leaning forward swiftly, as if he would lose his nerve before he completed the movement, the man lifted one flap and pulled out a wooden box.

Silently, cautiously, he offered it to Winnie, staring at the box as if it contained his very soul.

Bewildered but accepting, Winnie took the box, noticing the way Wolf immediately relaxed. She tried to lift the top, to expose its contents—

But Wolf's hand clamped over hers, drawing it away with a ragged breath. "Don't," he warned her hoarsely. "Don't open it here."

"Why not?" Confused, Winnie glared, hugging the box to her chest. "Why aren't I allowed to open it?"

Now Wolf eyed the box as if it would explode if she opened it. "Red," he pleaded quietly, desperately, "not here. Please? Open it when you get home."

Puzzled, Winnie nodded, obediently placing the small box in her bag. Wolf immediately relaxed the moment it was out of his sight, and he quickly slipped on a shirt, shouldering his bag, shoving his feet into his boots.

"Let's go home."

* * *

Nehem Jabirne rubbed his temples and resisted the urge to glare at the man in front of him. This was the second stranger they had found in two weeks. If only he had actors lining up outside his door to join his troupe so quickly!

"What can you do?" He snapped, not in the mood to be polite.

The man before him locked his hands behind his back and stared at the director, his blue eyes steady. "I can work," he said easily, "and I can hunt."

Nehem nearly refused. If Millie had been nobility, this man certainly was, no matter how he was dressed. His brown hair flopped into his face, and he stood stiffly, as if he were used to addressing large groups of people.

"I'll allow you to stay a week," Nehem grunted, sure that he was going sentimental in his old age, "to prove your worth."

The man before him gave a short bow, relief palpable in his blue eyes.

"What's your name?" Nehem barked as the man turned to leave. Surprised, the younger man spun around, straightening instinctively.

"Gregory, sir."

Nehem nodded, pleased at the address. When Gregory hovered at the door, Nehem, feeling a bit more charitable, did not immediately attempt to evict the younger man from his wagon.

"What is it, Gregory?"

The younger man hesitated, took a deep breath, and asked a question that left Nehem reeling. "Do you know a woman named Millicent, or perhaps Millie?"

Nehem bristled, his dark eyes narrowing. "No, I don't!" He barked, glaring until Gregory quickly exited the wagon. Slumping back into his chair, Nehem gave in and rubbed his head.

So Gregory was Millie's lover, or perhaps husband, come to look for her.

Nehem growled his disgust and cradled his head in hands.

 _Nobles._

What had he ever done for Fate to punish him this way?

* * *

Winnie breathed a sigh of relief, dropping her mare's reins as she approached her grandmother's home. Parisa Forest was quiet, and the trees spread their fall foliage for her enjoyment. Winnie closed her eyes, unable to keep the smile from her face.

It was good to be home.

The first thing she noticed when she opened her eyes was the amount of baggage piled near the front door. As Faolan streaked off into the woods to explore his new home, Winnie slipped off her mare and made her way towards the door.

"Rudy, could you please look for…" Abigail Allen broke off abruptly and lost her composure for a moment, gripping the doorpost and staring at her granddaughter with wide blue eyes, as if she had thought Winnie would never return.

"Winnie…" she breathed, and the younger woman found that answering tears were summoned in response to her grandmother's teary smile.

"I'm home, Grandma," she said simply, dropping her mare's reins to run into Abigail's arms, the tears flowing unchecked as she once again breathed in her grandmother's lilac perfume.

"Abbi, I can't find the cursed…" Rudy trailed off as he spotted their unexpected guest, and with a booming laugh that made Winnie giggle in response, he swept her off her feet into a tight hug that she had missed.

Wiping her tears from her eyes, Abigail wrapped an arm around Winnie's shoulders and peered around her. "Where is Wolfgang?" She asked, searching for her errant student. Unable to find him, she leveled Winnie with a stern glare that was belied by her smile. "You didn't lose him, did you, Winnie?"

Laughing, Winnie shook her head. "No, he had to return home."

Inspecting Winnie closer, Abigail frowned in contemplation. "You've changed," she said quietly. Shifting into tones Winnie knew well, she sighed dramatically. "He never did take you to see a play, did he?"

Confused, Winifred stared at Abigail for a moment before remembering a long-ago conversation, before she had left for Ibbot. Laughing again, happy to be home, she shook her head. "No, he never did."

Abigail _tsked_ in disapproval. "I thought he would surely win you that way."

"Grandma!" Winnie protested, giggling as Abigail raised her white eyebrows.

"You have changed," she said seriously. Before Winnie could offer an explanation, Abigail stiffened, her blue eyes wide as she studied something behind Winnie.

"Winnie," she whispered carefully, drawing her granddaughter closer, "there's a wolf approaching."

Twisting around to glance over her shoulder, Winnie relaxed and wiggled out her grandmother's tight hold. "It's all right," she explained, wondering why Abigail looked so nervous. "That's Faolan."

Frowning at the name, Abigail stared in wonder as her granddaughter crouched in order to stroke what appeared to be a wolf puppy. "Did you tame this creature in your travels?" she demanded, stepping backwards as the beast approached her.

Winnie shook her head, giving Faolan a soft command that Abigail could not understand. As the puppy trotted back into the woods, Winnie explained, "He was a gift from Wolf."

Abigail raised her eyebrows at this, but did not comment. "Am I to take it that there is no royal wedding?"

Winifred shook her head, her brown eyes growing shadowed with memories she would never repeat. "Roselyn stayed in Ibbot, but there is not going to be a wedding."

Abigail started at this news, frowning. "Aleinah is not going to appreciate that news." She seemed to shake the pain she felt onto the cool fall breeze that whipped by them, and she quickly ushered Winnie into the house, pulling her close.

"I'm glad you're home."

"Me too," Winnie responded, yawning as the exhaustion her journey caught up to her.

Abigail jostled her shoulder lightly. "Winnie," she scolded, "you can't be tired!"

"Why not?" Winnie wondered after the former actress as Abigail began pulling trunks back into the house, calling for Rudy.

Looking back over her shoulder, Abigail gave her granddaughter a sly grin. "You have to be awake for tonight's party."

* * *

"Yes, she has it," Wolf confirmed wearily, running his hands through his hair, wishing he wasn't so nervous.

"No doubt you'll get her answer tonight," Elsa Lothar observed from where she sat next to her son, her fingers playing nervously against the wolf pendant around her neck.

"Tonight?" At her words, Wolf's head came up, and he gazed at his mother curiously. "Why tonight?"

Wolf thought his mother looked too smug. "I'd forgotten," she told him innocently, her gray eyes glinting wickedly.

"What?" Wolf growled, in no mood to be played with.

"There's a party tonight," Elsa explained, smoothing his hair away from his face, a gesture she hadn't performed since his childhood. "It was meant for Roselyn, if she did return, but since she isn't coming back, its in honor of you and Winnie."

Wolf just stared at her for a long moment, incredulous. Then, upon realizing that she was serious, he dropped his head against the table with a solid _thunk_.

What had he ever done to Fate to deserve this?

* * *

Winnie's hands trembled as she offered Roselyn's letter to the stolid Aleinah Lanton, but the older woman did not seem pleased to receive the missive. She cradled Roselyn's newest sibling—James Lanton—in her arms, but she quickly shifted her hold in order to grasp the letter.

Scanning the first few lines, Mrs. Lanton began to scowl. Before she had even finished the letter, she tossed the paper onto the fire in one violent motion, causing Winnie to retreat a few cautious steps.

"That's it, then?" She said furiously, her blue eyes full of tears as she spat in the direction of the purse that Roselyn had begged Winnie to give her mother. "Tells me she's not coming back with not so much as a 'by your leave?'"

"Mrs. Lanton," Winnie began, slowly stepping forward in an attempt to placate the woman, "she wanted to help support you."

"I don't want charity from my own kin!" Aleinah hissed, as James began to wail. "I'll take her money this time, in memory of the daughter she used to be, but you tell that hussy that I won't take it again!"

Whirling away, Aleinah Lanton left a bewildered Winifred Nimble behind her. Shaking her head, Winnie watched as Aleinah escaped to the kitchens to vent her grief by baking as much as possible. Many of those pastries would be discarded, Winnie knew, because they were saltier than usual—the result of tears soaking into the dough.

Winnie had seen Mrs. Lanton grieve her way through three stillbirths in that manner, and she knew that Aleinah took Roselyn's refusal to return home as the loss of another child. Knowing that she could do nothing more, Winnie left the Bluebird Inn, heading back towards the forest.

* * *

Sighing, Winnie splashed cool water on her face before slipping into her dress. While the dress she had decided to wear was one of the finest she owned, it would never measure up to the ones she had worn in the palace.

Winnie snorted. _Thank goodness for that_.

The dress floated over her body, a forest green with paler green embroidery. Knowing that no one would expect her to wear dancing slippers to the dirt-packed town square, Winnie gratefully slid on her boots, frowning as one of them knocked against her saddlebags, sounding as if it had landed against something wooden.

Brown eyes wide in realization, Winnie cursed her own stupidity as she scrambled towards her saddlebags, digging for the wooden box that Wolf had handed her so solemnly four days ago.

 _Open it when you get home._

Well, Winnie thought smugly, she was home, and she wanted to know what was in the box. She had nearly opened it three or four times in the last three days, but she had always found Wolf watching her cautiously when he discovered her having a staring contest with the box. Finally retrieving it from the bottom of her bags, Winnie held it up triumphantly, her heart beating erratically.

What could be inside? What could be so important?

Holding her breath, Winnie cautiously lifted the lid, exposing its contents.

Nestled on a bed of midnight blue velvet, a silver wolf pendant shone in the dying light of the sun, strung on a fine silver chain.

Finely crafted, every detail was perfect, from the wolf's alert eyes, gazing to the right, to the pricked ears, listening for some sound that Winnie could not hear. Even the fur was given texture, and Winnie stroked the pendant with trembling fingers, awed.

Awe was quickly replaced by confusion, and Winnie studied the strange gift, wondering why Wolf was so hesitant to give it to her. Where had she seen something like it?

Elsa Lothar wore one, but Winnie shook her head, still puzzled. Why would Wolf give her something that belonged to his mother? No, there was something else she was forgetting. Suddenly, it came to her, and Winnie's hands shook as she gasped in shock.

Wolf's words from months ago rang in her head:

 _In some older families, there is an ancient tradition to use a pendant with the family's symbolic animal in place of an engagement ring._

Winnie sank to the floor, heedless of the wrinkles her dress was acquiring. Holding the box in her hands, she gaped at the necklace that continued to shimmer in the sunset light that filtered through her bedroom window.

Wolf was asking her to marry him.

"By Fate," Winnie breathed, watching the way the displaced orange rays reflected in the empty silver eyes, turning them amber for a fleeting moment.

Nearly afraid to touch it, Winifred considered the gift in her hands, well aware that the decision was hers alone. Brushing her loose hair out of her face, Winnie considered the pendant.

Dare she accept it?

Minutes later, Abigail paused at her granddaughter's door, resplendent in a lavender gown that made her eyes appear violet. "Are you ready?"

Winnie turned, and Abigail was surprised to see a smooth wooden box in her hands. Expression unreadable, Winnie nodded.

Holding out her hand, Abigail beckoned. "Come along," she chided gently. "It's rude to keep guests waiting at your own party."

Obediently, Winifred followed her grandmother, pausing for a moment to snap the box shut and placed it carefully on her beside table.

She had made her decision.

* * *

 **A/N: Reviews are always appreciated!**


	20. A New Life

**A/N: Well, here we are! We've reached the final chapter of this story. I would like to thank all of you who took the time to read and review this story-every view meant a lot to me. Please enjoy!**

* * *

Chapter 20: A New Life

"Wolf, you need to settle down," Tom Tumbin said, attempting to placate the other man, watching his friend pace before the large bonfire. Gesturing towards a full tankard of ale with his nearly empty one, Tom continued pleasantly, "Have a drink. It'll calm your nerves."

Collapsing into the seat next to Tom, Wolfgang Lothar ignored the well-wishers that crowded around him, hoping to hear of his exploits in the capital. Growling in frustration and disgust, Wolf ran his hands through his hair, nearly pulling out the horsetail he had restrained it in.

"I just need to know," he whispered hoarsely, staring at the tankard of ale as if it could somehow transform into Winifred Nimble and give him an answer.

"She'll come and tell you herself," Tom consoled his friend, daring to lean over and pat Wolf on the shoulder. "Just wait."

Grumbling something under his breath, Wolf shifted in his seat. Moments later, he sat bolt upright, his amber eyes sharpening. Tom observed that his friend was actually trembling, and he followed Wolf's intense gaze to where Abigail Allen had just entered the ring of firelight, Winnie two steps behind her.

Winnie paused before the firelight, her head turning as if she were looking for someone. Wolf drank in the sight, his eyes roving over her form, the way her dark green dress clung to her body in all the right places, the way her hair flowed loose and unbound over her shoulders, the way she seemed so relaxed, as if all her worries had evaporated in the course of one afternoon.

Wolf leaped to his feet, and Tom frowned, worried by the way his friend was visibly shaking. "Wolf…?" he wondered, but his friend was beyond hearing him at that moment. The taller man was pale, and his amber eyes were wide with incredulity. His breathing came in shallow gasps, as if he was unable to breathe properly.

Wondering why the usually composed Wolf was currently gaping like a fish at his recent travel companion, Tom followed his friend's gaze, which oddly rested on Winnie's throat.

Tom frowned and leaned forward, puzzled. What was Wolf acting so oddly about? Then, just as he was about to demand an answer, he saw it.

Gleaming in the firelight, a silver wolf pendant nestled against the hollow of Winifred Nimble's throat.

* * *

The man who had once been known as Prince Gregory of Loken was nearly asleep on his feet. After proving his mettle to Nehem Jabirne, he had been hired as a worker for the acting troupe. He was paid enough to live on, and he was expected to help the other workers move the set pieces when the troupe decided to set up their theater near a small town.

Normally, as dusk fell, he would traverse the town, searching for news of Millie, but tonight, he was nearly dead on his feet. His boss had worked them relentlessly, and the only thing Gregory wanted was to drag himself to the wagon he shared with five other men, crawl into his bunk, and sleep until he was woken at dawn.

As much as he hated to admit it, Gregory was about ready to give up searching for his exiled lover. At first, he had been intrigued by one of the women in the troupe, who had green eyes and a face much like Millie's. But Nehem had made it clear that the workers were not to bother the seamstresses, and Gregory was kept well away.

Looking up, Gregory watched as the mysterious woman crossed the clearing in front of him, her arms full of costumes to be mended and refitted. Her green eyes clearly betrayed the exhaustion she felt, and Gregory felt a surge of sympathy towards her. Something told him that this woman was not used to hard work. Perhaps she was of noble birth?

Gregory stopped to watch her, ignoring the way his muscles screamed for rest and wondering why she did not head towards the seamstresses' sleeping wagon, where she normally retired. She seemed to be heading towards the wagon where the costumes were kept. Watching her walk heavily up the steps that led into the wagon, Gregory moved closer, drawn to her in a way he could not understand.

Her large green skirt and full white shirt hid whatever figure she had, and a dark green kerchief covered her hair, leaving the color a mystery. Impulsively, Gregory moved closer, quickly checking to make sure that no one could see him in the dark.

The sun was already gone, and the former prince watched with interest as the woman lit a lamp under the wagon's cover, throwing her silhouette against the sheet and making it clear that she intended to stay awake a while longer.

With the silent tread that had allowed him to become the best hunter among the workers, Gregory slid closer, strangely desperate to know who this woman was. Now confident that no one was awake, the former prince crept up the steps, freezing as one creaked and the woman's voice called from within:

"Who's there?"

The moment the woman spoke, Gregory knew. Perhaps it was a littler lower, huskier for the purpose of disguise, but he could never forget that voice. It haunted his dreams and had spurred him to leave his throne and follow her into a world he knew nothing about.

No longer desperate, but recklessly determined, Gregory ascended the last few steps and pulled aside the curtain.

* * *

Winnie felt foolish as she stood before the fire in the middle of Satuton's square, but she was not about to move. Several of the musically-inclined had struck up a tune, and around her, people had begun to dance, some asking her questions that were lost on the cool night wind that whipped around them, shaping the fire into a dancing star, tossing embers into the sky.

Uncaring if she appeared rude, Winnie ignored them and waited. For a moment, she thought perhaps he had not come—but no, her grandmother had told her that it was in honor of them both, and if she knew Elsa, he would be here.

To her right, low and nearly inaudible, she heard it: "Winnie."

Her responsive shiver had nothing to do with the cool wind and everything to do with the heat in his amber eyes as he approached her. Feeling strangely naked under his appraising stare, Winnie raised her chin defiantly and went to meet him on the outer edges of the circle, out of range of the dancers but close enough to the firelight that she could still discern his expression.

The warmth in Wolf's amber eyes as he grinned at her was reminiscent of his heated gaze when he had held her four nights ago, at the inn—the last time he had truly touched her.

Reaching out a hesitant hand as she stopped a few inches away, Wolf could not keep his eyes from the wolf pendant resting against her chest.

"Do you accept?" The soft, desperate question was out of his mouth before he could stop it, but Winnie's shy smile calmed his fears.

Hoping to explain, Wolf placed his fingers against the pendant, starting as he registered that it was warm to the touch—warmed by her skin. "Don't answer right away," he cautioned. "I have to know that you understand."

Wolfgang eyed the woman in front of him seriously, wishing that he knew what she was thinking. He had no intention of letting her go, but if she didn't understand what the pendant meant—as she hadn't before—he didn't want her agreeing to a promise she could not keep.

Even though it had worked out well for him last time.

Pushing those traitorous thoughts away, Wolf lifted his gaze to Winnie's brown ones and found himself unable to breathe. In the reflected firelight, she was beautiful, and her eyes had taken on a golden cast, gleaming with enough love to leave him feeling weak.

"Red," he told her gently, "I want you to know what this means."

Winnie lifted her hand to rest against his, entangling their fingers so they both felt the warm silver under their fingertips. "I know."

* * *

"Who's there?" Millie demanded again, gathering the costumes on her lap against her, as if they would be a sufficient shield if someone wished to harm her.

Unable to see the intruder's face past the glow of her lamp, Millie glared at the man who stood poised in the entrance of the wagon, allowing the blanket to fall behind him, blocking the night sky from her view. From his muscular build, Millie knew he must be one of the workers, but she didn't feel her fear begin to take hold until the stranger took a step forward.

"You know Jabirne's rules about workers and seamstresses mixing," she reminded him sharply. "You're not to bother me."

"I know," the man whispered, taking another step forward.

Millie knew she should be afraid of the man who had entered without asking permission—especially at this time of night!—but she seemed frozen in her seat. Something in his voice had bewitched her, low and soft and so familiar.

But where had she heard it?

"I know I shouldn't approach," the man told her, taking two more rebellious steps forward anyway, "but I wondered…"

"What?" Millie demanded sharply, her voice shaking as the man moved around the table holding her lamp, keeping his face out of his light. Millie knew that if she screamed, she would be immediately rescued by five heavily armed men, but something within her demanded that she see this man's face before she screamed.

The man knelt before her, lifting his face to hers, his blue eyes filled with fervent hope. "I wondered about the rule for lovers."

The costumes tumbled from Millie's lap and tears began to fall unbidden, coming faster as Gregory reached up to cradle her cheek in his palm, wiping away her tears with his calloused fingers. Even though her voice shook with sobs, even though she had a thousand questions crowding through her mind with every thundering beat of her heart, the former noblewoman could only speak one word as she stared down into her lover's face.

"Greg…"

* * *

Wolf stared at Winnie, unsure he could believe what he was hearing. She understood? She knew what he was asking, and she still accepted?

Unable to control himself, he stepped forward and drew her into his arms, pleased beyond words that she came into his embrace easily, pressing her forehead against his chest, listening to the way his heart beat raggedly against her skin.

"Are you sure?"

Pulling away, Winnie glared up at him, her brown eyes narrowed, snorting in annoyance. "Wolf," she snapped, "why do you keep questioning me?"

Embarrassed, Wolf lowered his head. "I can't allow you to make a mistake, like the last time."

Winnie's brown eyes softened, and she cradled his face in her hands. "Wolf," she crooned softly, pressing her forehead against his, wondering why he was so nervous, "this _is_ my choice. I accept."

Slowly, like an ember catching a spark, the pleasant heat rekindled in Wolf's eyes, and he smirked at her, lowering his face to hers, pressing his lips against hers, briefly, a teasing kiss that left Winnie whimpering for more.

At her soft moan, Wolf's control began to slip, and heedless of the fact that they were in a public place, he drew her into a deep kiss, reveling in the feel of her soft hair slipping through his fingers, in the feel of her soft lips against his, in the scent of wild roses that pervaded his senses and made him unaware of anything else.

Winnie gasped as he pulled away, feeling as light-headed as she had the first time they had kissed. "Wolf…" she murmured, burying her head against his neck in order to brush her lips against the juncture of neck and shoulder.

Shuddering with pleasure, Wolf closed his eyes, attempting to keep control. Tightening his arms around Winnie's slim frame, he ran his fingers through her hair, hoping to calm himself as well as her. Lowering his head, he pressed his cheek against hers, whispering, "Red, if you keep that up, I won't be able to stay here much longer."

Winnie raised her head and granted him a wicked smirk. "Perhaps that's what I want," she teased, shivering as Wolf growled in response, pressing her tighter against him.

"You have no idea how _pleased_ I am that you accepted me," Wolf told his intended huskily, chuckling lowly as she shivered in his arms, easily understanding both of his meanings, pressed against him as she was.

Blushing, Winnie dropped her head, but Wolf was quick to raise it again, his fingers warm under his chin.

"I'm glad I accepted you as well," Winifred whispered, her red hair tumbling over her shoulders as she grinned up at him.

* * *

"How did you find me?" Millie whispered, her chair scraping against the wooden floor of the wagon as she pushed it back and fell to her knees facing the one man she had never thought to see again.

Gregory's blue eyes were warm in the lamplight as he pulled her into his arms, settling against the side of the wagon and pulling her into his lap.

Millie curled up against him, wiping away the last of her tears, and Gregory answered in a low voice. "I found you through Fate's blessing. I knew that I had to see you again."

Twisting her hands in his shirt, Millie stilled and stared up at him in horror. "You gave up your throne for me?"

Gregory said nothing.

Pushing away, Millie stood up, tears flowing once again, this time in fury. Gregory's hands on her waist made to pull her back down, but she slapped them away and stood glaring down at him, once again the regal Millicent of Hake.

"How could you?" She hissed, clenching her fists in order to keep from slapping him. "How could you abandon your throne to come after me?"

The former prince of the realm gazed back at her, his blue eyes calm, his jaw stubbornly set. "I came to find you and abdicated because the throne means nothing to mean without you."

His quiet words did more to cool Millie's anger than she had thought possible. Sinking back down beside him, she allowed her lover to pull her back into his embrace, biting her lip as she considered his words.

"Why?"

Gregory tipped his face to hers, earnest in the low lamplight. "I love you," he told her solemnly, "and I will always love you."

Millie pressed against him, all of her exhaustion fleeing as she felt the familiar feel of his lips on hers. There was a familiar rhythm to their movements, and Millie fully embraced it as Gregory stood momentarily to extinguish the lamp before rejoining her.

Yes, Millicent of Hake could learn to enjoy exile.

* * *

"You're quiet tonight."

Lady Roselyn of Loken turned slightly at the sound of familiar voice, blushing as the man approached.

"Rueben," she greeted him calmly, a shy smile on her lips. The fall breeze teased her upswept curls as they stood on the terrace, and the duke wrapped his finger around one of the loose ones, tugging lightly before letting go.

"Don't be coy," he teased gently, stepping up beside her to lean against the railing and look out over the gardens. The terrace was empty except for them—all of the other nobility were inside, gossip flowing as freely as the wine as they all discussed who the next heir to the throne would be. The king and queen had said nothing on the subject, but they were still recovering from the loss of the eldest son, who had disappeared for reasons unknown.

Roselyn bit her lip at the duke's teasing remark, glancing at him. "I did not mean to," she told him quietly, reassured when he dared to slip his arm around her waist and pull her close.

"Rose," he reassured her softly, "you know I only jest."

Leaning against his solid frame, Roselyn sighed. "I know."

"What's wrong?" Rueben's blue eyes were concerned as he gazed down at her, and Roselyn brushed a errant lock of hair off his forehead, blushing as he caught her hand before she could fully lower it, pressing it to his lips in a gentle kiss of gratitude.

Returning her gaze to the moonlit gardens, Roselyn sighed wistfully. "There will be a party there, tonight, I have no doubt."

The relapse into her native dialect left Rueben with no confusion as to who she referred to. Stroking the soft skin at the nape of her neck, he attempted to console her. "There's a party here," he teased lightly, gesturing towards the ballroom. When that received no reaction more than a wistful sigh, he took her hand in his, tugging her towards the gardens.

"What are you doing?" Roselyn wondered after him, following where he led but balking at the sight of the gardens.

Halting, Rueben released her hand and held out his arm, as a proper escort would. "The gardens are works of art in this moonlight," he declared, coaxing a smile from the woman next to him.

"Yes, they are beautiful," she quietly agreed, the night breeze stirring her midnight blue dress.

"If I recall," Rueben told her just as softly, stepping closer, as if he feared eavesdroppers, "you enjoy the scent and sight of white roses."

Roselyn granted him a pleased smile, blushing, surprised that he had remembered something that had happened so long ago, when her destiny had looked to be much different.

"I do," she agreed, her wistful mood disappearing entirely.

The duke smiled down at her, pressing a gentle kiss to her cheek. "May I escort you?" He whispered lowly, his blue eyes reflecting the starlight above them.

Placing her arm on his, Roselyn allowed him to entwine his fingers through hers, moving closer as he led her down the maze-like paths, leaving the glittering palace behind.

* * *

"Wolf…"

The man slowly lifted his head and gazed at the woman he loved, never ceasing to run his fingers through her hair. "Yes, Red?" he murmured against the top of her head, shifting on the bench they were curled upon and seeking a better position.

After an hour spent telling stories of their adventures in Ibbot, the two guests of honor had retired to an empty bench to spend time with each other, watching the other occupants of their small town dance and drink the night away.

Winnie had long lost sight of her grandmother in the crowd, but she was not worried. Rudy was never far from Abigail's side, and Winnie did not mind her grandmother's absence at this moment. Some things were better said without an audience.

"Wolf," Winnie repeated, drawing away slowly, making it clear that she was leaving the circle of his arms reluctantly. Sensing that she had something of importance to say, Wolf allowed his arms to drop from her slowly, but he frowned, concerned.

"What's wrong, Red?"

"Nothing's wrong," Winnie hurried to reassure him, blushing as he continued to gaze at her, the concern never leaving his expression. How she wished this would come easier!

"There's something I should have told you long ago," Winnie confessed, balling her fists into the material of her skirt and sending numerous prayers to Fate for guidance.

"Red, what is it?" Wolf was worried now, moving closer to smooth her hair away from her face, his amber eyes searching hers for any sign of panic or uncertainty.

Winnie bit her lip and looked away, hoping the color would recede from her face. The color only intensified as Wolf gently directed her face to his, and the woman looked up at him as she took a deep breath.

"Wolf, I love you."

For several long minutes, only silence reigned. Winnie held her breath, noting that the sounds of the revelry seemed to be muted. Even the music felt as if it were approaching them from miles away, its true tune indiscernible. The only thing that matter was Wolf, and he sat before her as if frozen.

Slowly, expression crept back into his face, and Winnie watched in concern as his face contorted into a strange sort of grimace that looked like something akin to laughter.

Then Wolf's head was in his hands, his shoulders shaking. Winnie sat before him, unable to move, confusion beginning to be eclipsed by hurt. It seemed Wolfgang could not control himself, for he began to laugh, his quiet chuckles quickly escalating into a joyful laughter.

Winnie burned with indignant anger, glaring at the man who she had just promised herself to. How dare he laugh at her feelings! She had never mocked him when he had voiced his intentions, and she had accepted him then without ridicule!

"Do you find that funny?" She hissed furiously. The woman attempted to leave the bench, to go sulk and fume over her rejection privately, but the second she moved, the man's hand shot out to wrap around her wrist, stalling her escape.

"Red…" Wolf chuckled, straightening, "Red, forgive me."

"Why should I?" Winnie snapped glaring. Angry and confused, she made an attempt to leave once again, but Wolf's hands cradling her face stopped her, holding her hostage with no more than that warm touch of his palms against her skin.

"Red," he placated her quietly, sobering once he discovered that she was truly injured by his laughter, "you must understand."

"Understand what?" Winnie demanded, feeling more and more foolish the longer she sat next to him.

Wolf's amber eyes were full of solemn earnestness as he hurried to reassure her. "You've given me so much tonight, Red, more than I could hope for."

Reassured by his quiet words and the sincerity she could easily discern in his amber eyes, Winnie calmed enough to resettle next to him. Wolf's next words erased all of her doubts and fears, and she allowed them to wash over her, warmed by their promise.

"I love you as well, Winifred Nimble."

With that reassurance, Wolf found himself with his arms full of Winnie, but he was not one to complain. Accepting her lips eagerly turned towards him, he poured all of his longing and promise into that single gesture, hoping she understood.

A cleared throat and a delighted laugh caused them to part abruptly, and the couple turned to find Abigail Allen and Elsa Lothar watching them, both looking like elated schoolgirls.

Raising an eyebrow in the direction of her erstwhile student, Abigail commented, "I suppose that since you're family now, Wolfgang, that is how we greet each other."

Winnie merely gaped at her grandmother for a moment before blushing, mortified. Elsa laughed again, the musical tone sounding more appropriate from the throat of a delighted young girl than the mouth of a woman watching her adult son and his intended embrace.

"I was afraid you would never admit it," she smiled, her gray eyes brightening at the sight of the wolf pendant Winnie wore, identical the one around her throat.

Winnie felt her jaw drop as Elsa turned to her grandmother and smirked, looking strangely like her son for a moment. "You owe me three marks. They admitted it upon their return."

Grumbling good-naturedly, Abigail extracted the coins from her small purse and handed them to Elsa.

"Grandma!" Winnie wailed, coloring further in humiliation as the two older women merely smiled at her, enjoying her reaction to their small bet.

Abigail winked at Winnie, laughing. "Don't be embarrassed, dear," she attempted to console her granddaughter. "There are more bets to be collected."

Leaving Winnie spluttering in indignation behind them, the two older women moved off towards the revelry, still laughing to themselves.

Burying her head in her hands and feeling the heat of her blush against her palms, Winnie lifted her head to find Wolf watching her, reaching out to cradle her warm cheek in his hand.

"This color makes you beautiful," he told her, and instead of glaring, as she might have once, long ago, Winnie leaned into his touch, a sad smile touching her lips as she thought of her parents.

How they would have loved this night.

Wolf stood, and Winnie took his offered hand. No one noticed the young couple slipping away towards the woods, and the two relaxed their quickened pace once they had returned to the safety of the trees.

Under the canopy, Wolf watched, mesmerized, as moonbeams slid over Winnie's pale skin, turning her fiery hair to molten silver. She seemed to be made of the moonlight itself as he watched her float before him down the path. She was the most beautiful creature he had ever seen.

Unable to believe that she was truly his, Wolf stepped forward and trapped her in the circle of his arms, wanting to see if such a brilliant moon-creature was truly tangible.

Winnie melted against him, the moonlight sliding away as she wrapped her arms around his neck.

"Are you truly mine?" Wolf wondered against her lips, listening absently to a wood dove cooing a lullaby to its mate overhead.

In response, Winnie pressed her lips to his. Pulling away, she gave him a shy smile, full of hopeful promises and dreams of a life together.

"Until the end of time."

* * *

 **A/N: Reviews are always appreciated!**


	21. Epilogue: Happily Ever After

**A/N: I decided to post the epilogue on the same day as the final chapter, so you wouldn't be kept waiting too long. Thank you again to everyone who faithfully read and reviewed this story.**

* * *

Epilogue: Happily Ever After

The warm sunlight spilled through the window despite the thick canopy that would normally attempt to halt its progress. The trees were showing their autumnal colors of red, gold, brown and green, and with most of them falling to the earth, more and more sunlight was allowed to reach the small house nestled in the heart of Parisa Forest.

The sunlight spilled onto the smooth wooden table, illuminating numerous papers strewn upon its surface. Bolts of fabric leaning against the wall were lit upon, as well as numerous papers that littered the floor.

Winifred Lothar sat at the table where she had learned about colors and frowned at the sketch in front of her. Innumerable colored pencils lay before her, and seizing one, she shaded an area of the sketch with quick, confident strokes.

Seemingly satisfied, the woman sat back, holding the paper up to the light. Dark ink lines drew the outline of a female form, and a few darker colors gave the outline the appearance of wearing a dress.

Looking around, Winnie sighed in exasperation, shaking her head at the day's handiwork. Gathering up her rejected sketches and scribbled color schemes, she piled them on the hearth, to be used as kindling later that night.

Glancing out the window, Winnie checked the position of the sun and then glanced over her shoulder at the large wolf that lay stretched in front of the door. As if she had asked him a question, Faolan got to his feet, shaking his coat and glancing back to his mistress.

"It's about that time, isn't it?" Winnie asked, crossing the room to let the wolf-dog bound outside. She knew Faolan wouldn't roam until Wolf returned—which, if the year-old animal was correct, would be in the next few minutes.

Carefully arranging her finished sketches into a neat pile, Winnie opened the long wooden box where Jack used to keep his whittling tools. With a wistful smile, the red-headed woman laid the sketches on top of an ever-growing pile of papers. At the sound of voices beyond the front door, Winnie quickly closed the box and placed it in a corner of the sitting room.

Scooping up the colored pencils, Winnie placed them away in another box as well, this one to be placed in her mother's old studio. Surveying the house and deeming it to be as clean as she could possibly make it, Winnie crossed to the front door, nudging Cate out of the way with her foot and listening with amusement to the conversation.

Cate, already miffed about having to share her home with a wild animal, did not take kindly to being moved from a very sunny spot onto the cooler, shadowed floor—even if it was her mistress who did the moving. Leaping up the stairs, Cate spat once at Winnie and disappeared into her mistress' old loft room, her tail held stiff with indignation.

"…Wolfgang, you really must learn to control this animal. No!"

Winnie rolled her eyes behind the relative privacy of her door before swinging it open and calling to her wolf-dog before her husband could intervene.

"Faolan!" Her companion's head shot up, fixing her with an intense amber stare, waiting for her next command—an order he had been longing to follow all day.

"Go hunt!" At Winnie's order, Faolan raced into the trees, his russet coat quickly blending into the foliage.

Meanwhile, Abigail frowned at Winnie's sharp order. "Dear, you really shouldn't give him commands like that—he might attack someone."

Winnie barely refrained from rolling her eyes again at her grandmother's advice. "Grandma," she explained patiently for what seemed to be the fifth time that week, "I've told you, he's trained to see you as my friend. He won't attack you."

Although Abigail did not look convinced, Winnie ignored her grandmother for the moment and turned to a much more pleasant task—greeting her husband.

"Hello, Red," Wolf murmured as he kissed her gently. Winnie kept her arms around his neck as she pulled away, sliding them down to cradle his cheek. From that short embrace, she could tell he had had a long day, and by the way he held himself, Abigail was not helping matters.

Grimacing in sympathy, Winnie moved to warm up some hot water, knowing that mint tea would help Wolf, even if he complained about it as he drank it.

"You should really make sure that they know you are in charge," Abigail was counseling her grandson-in-law in her usual manner, and Wolf nodded, his amber eyes weary.

"I'll make sure of it, Abigail," he assured the older woman, fixing Winnie with a pleading gaze as she came forward with two cups.

"Grandma," Winnie started cautiously, focusing on the cup in her hands while passing the other to Wolf, "didn't Rudy want you to go home after helping Wolf today? Aren't you leaving at dawn?"

"Thank you, dear, I nearly forgot!" Abigail smiled, standing abruptly and kissing Winnie on the cheek.

"I'll see you when I get back," she promised, as Winnie followed her to the door.

"Take care, dear," she counseled her granddaughter as Winifred embraced her, smoothing her red hair from her face, so like her mother. "Keep an eye on your husband. I worry about him."

"I will," Winnie promised, hiding a smile and opening the door to let her grandmother pass. Watching Abigail retreat down the trail, Winnie sighed with relief when she faded from view. Closing the door and locking it with a satisfying _click_ , Winnie turned to find herself in her husband's welcome embrace.

"Red," Wolf sighed as she leaned against him, "I appreciate everything your grandmother has done for us, but I'm sincerely looking forward to the quietest two months I've ever known."

"Think you can survive without her?" Winnie teased, wrapping her arms around his neck and pressing her forehead against his chest, gaining reassurance from the steady beat of his heart under her skin.

Wolf snorted. "I wonder if Ibbot will still be standing when she leaves."

Winnie pretended to consider this seriously for a moment. "She lived there for fifteen years. It was still standing when we left, and I'm sure it will survive when she leaves."

"There is only one thing I cannot survive without," Wolf's voice became the husky growl the Winnie knew so well, and she shivered in response.

"What is that?" she whispered teasingly against his lips, her body beginning to hum with desire as Wolf's lips captured hers.

"You." Wolf told her roughly, and Winnie trembled, his possessive tone urging her to surrender to him.

She would have, gladly, if Wolf had not pulled away with a soft groan. Disappointed, Winnie tipped her face up to his, wondering why he had stopped.

In response to her inquisitive stare, Wolf gave her a wry smile, his amber eyes full of regret. "We have work to do," he reminded her, taking her hand and leading her back to the table. "The traveling troupe will be here in a month, and we promised them use of our equipment."

Sighing, Winnie lowered herself into the seat next to him, rescuing her cup of now-cold mint tea and grimacing at the taste, resisting the urge to put her head down and take a nap on the table.

Wolf had been director of Satuton's acting troupe for nearly a year now, and while he could handle it on his own, that did not stop his famed mentor from stopping by from time to time in order to check on him.

It was on those days that Wolf would be at his most irritable, for although he appreciated Abigail's advice, he chafed under the feeling of having someone always looking over his shoulder.

Once she had discovered that her inherent eye for color could be put to use, Winnie had become the costume designer for all of Wolf's productions, and while she could not sew as easily as the seamstresses they hired, she made sure that the costumes were the best to capture the mood of each scene.

Although on any other night, Winnie would allow Wolf to see her sketches, she felt that these were not complete yet. Searching for a way to distract her husband, Winnie pressed her hand to the wolf pendant at her throat, her silver-and-diamond wedding band clinking against it.

A warm hand clasped her own, and Winnie raised her eyes to Wolf's, no longer blushing at the heat she saw in his eyes. "What are you thinking about, Red?"

Giving him a smirk that could rival one of his own, Winnie slid out of her seat, resting her hands on Wolf's shoulders before beginning to knead the tense muscles she knew she would find.

A groan rumbled through Wolf's chest, and he closed his eyes, enjoying the massage. "Red," he growled, his voice dropping an into a rougher tone, "you know that what you're doing is dangerous when we have work to do."

"I'm sorry," Winnie purred in response, baiting him. Wolf's amber eyes flashed with a dangerous heat, and before Winnie could remove her hands, Wolf was on his feet, stalking towards her as she retreated a few steps, smirking at him triumphantly.

"You know that you should be punished for distracting me," Wolf mused above her, easily catching her in his arms as she attempted to evade him.

Try as she might, Winnie could not keep the smug smile from her face. "Pity," she replied, "I thought distracting you was the goal."

Wolf chuckled in response, his amber eyes glowing with affection. "Red," he whispered as he pressed his lips against hers, "have I ever told you that I love you?"

Winnie tugged his lips down to hers, allowing him to discern his answer for himself. "As I love you," she responded.

"Always?" Wolf questioned, his tone light, his amber eyes solemn.

Winnie stilled, her gaze locking with his, her brown eyes shining. Gone was the young woman who had fled from his attentions a mere year ago. In her place stood a woman who had every confidence in her mate, no matter the situation. Wolf considered her, comparing the two women in his mind, finding that he loved them both. In a soft voice that echoed the promise she had made to him a year ago, she answered him.

"Always."

* * *

 **A/N: And here we draw to a close. Thank you again for taking the time to read this little creation.**


End file.
